CoJL 


NELLY    CHANNELL. 


fi*  CALIF.  LIBilAK*.  LOS 


'Until  she  came  to  tie  side  of  the  brook."  — Page  196. 


NELLY    CHANNELL. 


BY 

SARAH    DOUDNEY, 


AUTHOR   OF 


*  Strangers  Yet,"  "A    Woman's  Glory,"  "  What's  in 
a  Name,"  "Nothing  but  Leaves,"  etc. 


JKHttfj  JFour  Illustrations. 


Boston . 

IRA     BRADLEY     &     CO., 
162,  WASHINGTON  STREET. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   I.  PACT 

THE  HOME  AT  HUNTSDEAN,  AND  ITS  NEW  INMATEB  .        i 

CHAPTER   II. 
BROTHER  AND  SISTER. — RHODA  FARREN  PERPLEXED  .      17 

CHAPTER  III. 
A  SPARED  LIFE. — NEWS  FROM  ROBERT  CLARRIS       .      23 

CHAPTER  IV. 
AN  INVITATION  FROM  SQUIRE  DERRICK     .        •        .      43 

CHAPTER  V. 

HELErf    UNDER  A   NEW   ASPECT S3 

CHAPTER   VI. 
"THE  MASTER  is  COME,  AND  CALLETH  FOR  THEE"  .      65 


2129176 


vi  Contents. 

CHAPTER   VIL  PAGE 

THE  DISPOSAL  OF  HELEN'S  JEWELS    ....      79 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  FARM  PURCHASED  BY  ONE  RALPH  CHANNELL    .      87 

CHAPTER  IX. 
"THE  CONSCIOUSNESS  OF  BATTLE"    .       «       ,        .     101 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  STORY  OF  THE  DARK  HOUR        .        .        .        .    in 

CHAPTER  XI. 
NELLY  CHANNF,LL        ...,.,.    131 

CHAPTER  XII. 
MORGAN  FOSTER,  THE  NEW  CURATE  .        .        .       .141 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
WHAT  A  LITTLE  POEM  REVEALED       .        ,        ,        ,     151 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

EVE  HAZLEBURN,  POET  AND  FRIEND  .        .        «        .161 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  CONFESSION  OVERHEARD 


173 


Contents.  vii 

CHAPTER  xvi.  PAGB 

How  THE  TRUTH  CAME  OUT 189 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

AN   UNLOCKED  FOR    RELEASE                       .  T           .           .      2OI 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

"WHAT  GOD  HATH  JOINED  TOGETHER"  .        .        .211 


I. 

THE    HOME   AT    HUNTSDEAN    AND    ITS 
NEW  INMATES. 


B 


ED'S  BOOK  SHOP 

Books,  Magazines,  Stationery 
Novelties  and  Grafting  Cards 

1808  PACIFIC  AVENUE 
VENICE,  CALIFORNIA 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE   HOME  AT  HUNTSDEAN  AND  ITS 
NEW  INMATES. 

IT  was  the  dreariest  of  November  days.  The 
only  bright  spot  was  a  crimson  sumach,  spread- 
ing its  gorgeous  foliage  against  the  watery  grey 
of  the  sky,  and  misty  back-ground  of  fog-hidden 
fields.  It  was  a  day  that  made  the  burdens  of 
life  seem  heavier  than  they  really  were,  and 
set  the  heart  aching  for  the  sunshine  of  the 
vanished  summer. 

The  scene  was  as  still  as  death.  There  was 
not  wind  enough  to  lift  the  pale  vapours  that 
hung  over  the  meadows.  No  kindly  breezes 
came  to  the  poor  brown  leaves,  heaped  on  the 
wayside,  and  carried  them  off  to  quiet  hollows 
where  they  might  have  decent  burial.  Better 
rain  and  tempest  than  such  a  gloomy  calm  as 
this  ;  and  better  the  roar  and  rattle  of  the  train 


Nelly  Channel!. 


than  the  heavy  jog-trot  of  the  carrier's  horses, 
and  the  rumble  of  his  wagon. 

"  It  will  never  be  the  same  home  again,"  said 
Rhoda  Farren  to  herself,  as  the  old  grey  cottage 
came  in  sight.  There  was  the  low,  moss-grown 
wall,  built  of  flints — there  were  the  splendid 
sumachs,  brightening  the  desolate  garden. 
Rhoda  and  her  cousin  Helen  had  chased  each 
other  along  those  grassy  paths  when  they  were 
children.  But  they  were  women  now,  and  had 
put  away  childish  things.  Rhoda  loved  her 
cousin  reasonably  well,  yet  not  well  enough  to 
give  up  her  own  bedroom  to  her  and  her  baby. 

The  baby  was  the  principal  grievance. 
Rhoda  had  had  very  little  to  do  with  children  ; 
and  being  of  a  studious  turn,  she  did  not  want 
to  improve  her  acquaintance  with  them.  In 
reading  her  favourite  books  she  always  skipped 
the  parts  that  related  their  sayings  and  doings. 
It  was,  therefore,  no  small  cross  to  find  an  in- 
fant of  two  months  old  introduced  into  the 
family  circle.  For  there  she  had  hoped  to  reign 
supreme. 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean. 


She  had  a  presentiment  that  there  would  be 
rivalry  between  the  baby  and  herself — a  strug- 
gle for  mastery,  in  which  her  little  opponent 
might  possibly  be  victor.  "  Baby  lips  would 
laugh  her  down,"  if  she  attempted  remon- 
strance. Even  parents  and  a  fond  brother 
might  be  won  over  to  the  cause  of  the  small 
usurper. 

For  three  years  Rhoda  Farren  had  been 
living  away  from  home,  only  coming  back  for  a 
fortnight  at  Christmas,  and  sometimes  for  a  few 
days  in  midsummer.  Neighbours  and  friends 
had  looked  upon  her  as  fortunate.  She  had 
held  the  post  of  companion  to  the  rich  widow  of 
a  London  merchant,  and  had  been  well  treated, 
and  not  ill  remunerated. 

The  widow  was  lately  dead,  and  Miss  Farren 
was  returning  to  her  home  with  an  annuity  of 
twenty  pounds,  to  be  paid  regularly  by  Mrs. 
Elton's  executors. 

Mrs.  Elton  had  not  been  difficult  to  live  with; 
and  her  companion  had  adapted  herself  to  her 
ways  more  readily  than  most  girls  of  twenty 


Nelly  ChannelL 


would  have  done.  The  quiet  house  in  Caven- 
dish Square  had  been  no  uncheerful  home. 
But  the  mode  of  life  there  had  strengthened 
Rhoda's  habits  of  self-indulgence.  She  had 
had  ample  time  for  reading  and  musing.  No 
harsh  words  had  chafed  her  temper,  no  small 
nuisances  had  planted  thorns  in  her  path. 
They  had  few  visitors.  Weeks  would  pass 
without  their  hearing  other  voices  than  those  of 
the  servants.  It  did  not  matter  to  them  that 
there  were  mighty  things  done  in  the  great 
world.  It  was  an  unwholesome  life  for  two 
women  to  lead — a  life  of  cramped  interests  and 
narrow  thoughts. 

Helen  had  been  living  in  Islington,  while 
Rhoda  was  in  Cavendish  Square.  But  in  those 
days  Miss  Farren  never  went  to  see  anybody  ; 
and  she  excused  herself  for  not  visiting  Helen 
by  saying  that  Mrs.  Elton  did  not  like  her  to 
be  gadding  about.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that 
she  had  not  even  once  seen  her  cousin's  hus- 
band. 

She    knew   that    Robert   Clarris   had   taken 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean.  7 

Helen  from  her  situation  of  nursery  governess, 
and  had  married  her  after  a  brief  acquaintance. 
Rhoda's  parents  were  Helen's  only  surviving 
relatives,  and  they  had  given  their  full  consent 
to  the  match.  It  was  not  a  bad  match  for  a 
penniless  girl  to  make  ;  for  Robert  Clarris  was 
a  confidential  clerk  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Elton, 
son  of  the  widow  in  Cavendish  Square. 

It  was  in  July  that  Mrs.  Elton's  health  be- 
gan to  fail.  Rhoda  Farren  saw  the  change 
stealing  over  her  day  by  day,  and  knew  what  it 
portended.  In  a  certain  way  she  had  been  fond 
of  the  old  woman  ;  but  it  was  an  attachment 
without  love.  There  would  be  no  great  pain 
when  the  ties  between  them  were  broken,  and 
Rhoda  was  conscious  of  this.  She  was  even 
angry  with  herself  for  not  being  more  sorry 
that  Mrs.  Elton  was  dying. 

"  The  worry  of  life  is  wearing  me  out, 
Rhoda,"  said  the  widow  one  day,  when  Miss 
Farren  had  found  her  violently  agitated,  and  in 
tears.  It  surprised  her  not  a  little  to  hear  that 
Mrs.  Elton  had  any  worries.  But  when  the 


8  Nelly  ChannelL 

wind  shakes  the  full  tree,  there  is  always  a 
great  rustling  of  the  leaves.  The  bare  bough 
does  not  quake ;  it  has  nothing  to  lose.  Mrs. 
Elton  had  been  a  rich  woman  from  her  youth 
upward,  and  she  could  not  bear  that  a  single 
leaf  should  be  torn  from  her  green  branches. 

"I  have  had  a  dreadful  loss,  Rhoda,"  she 
continued  ;  "  a  loss  in  my  business.  The  busi- 
ness is  mine,  you  know.  I  always  said  my  son 
should  never  have  it  while  I  was  alive.  But 
of  course  I  have  let  him  carry  it  on  for  me, 
and  very  badly  he  has  managed  !  That  confi- 
dential clerk  of  his — Clarris — has  robbed  me  of 
three  hundred  pounds ! " 

"  You  surely  don't  mean  my  cousin  Helen's 
husband,  Mrs.  Elton  ? "  cried  Rhoda. 

"How  should  I  know  anything  about  his 
being  your  cousin's  husband  ? "  said  the  old 
lady  peevishly.  "  His  wife  is  a  very  unlucky 
woman,  whoever  she  is.  Three  hundred  pounds 
have  been  paid  into  Clarris's  hands  for  me,  and 
he  has  embezzled  every  shilling  of  it.  My  son 
always  had  a  ridiculous  habit  of  petting  the 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean. 


people  he  employed.  This  is  what  has  come 
of  it." 

"  Is  he  in  prison  ? "  faltered  Rhoda 

"  No  ;  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  he  isn't.  Those 
lazy  idiots,  the  detectives,  have  let  him  slip. 
He  has  had  the  impertinence  to  write  a  canting 
letter  to  my  son,  telling  him  that  every  farthing 
shall  be  restored." 

The  fugitive  was  not  captured.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Elton  had  a  secret  liking  for  the  ci-devant  clerk, 
and  did  not  care  to  have  him  too  hotly  pur- 
sued. Poor  lonely  Helen  had  travelled  without 
delay  to  her  uncle's  house,  and  there  her  little 
girl  had  entered  this  troublesome  world.  At 
the  end  of  October  Mrs.  Elton  had  ceased  to 
fret  for  the  three  hundred  pounds,  and  had  gone 
where  gold  and  silver  are  of  small  account. 
And  on  this  November  afternoon  Rhoda  Farren 
had  returned  to  her  old  home  once  more. 

Bond,  the  carrier,  had  picked  up  Miss  Farren 
and  her  belongings  when  the  train  had  set  her 
down  at  the  rural  railway  station.  Then  came 
the  five  mile  drive  to  Huntsdean,  over  the  roads 


1O  Nelly  Channell. 

that  she  had  often  traversed  in  her  girlhood. 
The  pallid  mist  clung  to  every  branch  of  the 
familiar  trees,  and  veiled  the  woodland  alleys 
where  she  had  watched  the  rabbits  and  squirrels 
in  bygone  times.  Not  a  gleam  of  sunshine 
welcomed  her  back  to  the  old  haunts  ;  not  a 
brown  hare  leaped  across  her  path  ;  not  a  bird 
sent  forth  a  note  of  welcome.  Nature  and 
Rhoda  were  in  the  same  mood  on  that  memor- 
able day. 

But  if  the  whole  scene  had  been  radiant  with 
flowers,  Rhoda  would  still  have  chosen  to  "  sit 
down  upon  her  little  handful  of  thorns."  She 
told  herself  again  and  again  that  her  good  days 
were  done.  Was  she  not  coming  home  to  find 
the  house  invaded,  and  her  own  room  occupied, 
by  the  wife  and  child  of  a  thief  ? 

Yes,  a  thief.  She  called  him  that  hard  name 
a  dozen  times,  and  even  whispered  it  as  she 
sat  under  the  wagon-tilt.  It  is  a  humbling  fact, 
that  humanity  finds  relief  in  calling  names. 
Ay,  it  is  a  miserable  thing  to  know  that  we 
have  fastened  many  a  bitter  epithet  on  some 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean.  1 1 

ivhose  names  are  written  in  the  Book  of 
Life. 

"  Wo  !  "  cried  Bond  to  his  horses. 

The  ejaculation  might  have  been  applied  to 
Rhoda  ;  for  it  was  a  woful  visage  that  emer- 
ged from  the  tilt  and  met  the  gaze  of  John 
Farren  as  he  came  out  of  the  garden  gate. 

"  You  don't  look  quite  so  young  as  you  did, 
Rhoda,"  he  said  when  he  had  lifted  her  from 
the  wagon  and  set  her  on  her  feet. 

There  are  birds  that  pluck  the  feathers  from 
their  own  breasts.  For  hours  Rhoda  had  been 
silently  graving  lines  upon  her  face,  and  deliber- 
ately destroying  the  bloom  and  freshness  that 
God  meant  her  to  keep.  But  she  did  not  like 
to  be  told  of  her  handiwork.  When  Miss  So- 
and-so's  friends  remark  that  she  is  getting  passe, 
is  it  any  comfort  to  her  to  know  that  her  own 
restless  nature,  and  not  Time,  has  deprived  her 
of  her  comeliness  ?  Many  a  woman  is  lovelier 
in  her  maturity  than  in  her  youth.  But  it  is  a 
kind  of  beauty  that  comes  with  the  knowledge 
of  "the  things  that  belong  unto  her  peace." 


Nelly  Channelt. 


John  looked  after  her  boxes,  and  paid  the 
carrier.  The  wagon  rumbled  on  through  the 
village,  the  black  retriever  barking  behind  it,  to 
the  exasperation  of  Bond's  dog,  which  was 
tethered  under  the  wain.  Then  the  brother  put 
his  hands  on  his  sister's  shoulders,  glanced  at 
her  earnestly  for  a  moment,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Mother's  waiting  for  you,"  he  said. 

As  he  spoke,  Mrs.  Farren  appeared  in  the 
porch,  and  at  the  sight  of  her  Rhoda's  ill-tem- 
per was  ready  to  take  flight.  But  Helen  was 
behind  her,  waiting  too  —  waiting  to  weary  her 
cousin  with  all  the  details  of  her  wretched  story, 
and  expecting  her,  perhaps,  to  pity  Robert 
Clarris. 

"  It's  good  to  have  you  back  again,  my  dear," 
said  the  mother's  soft  voice  and  glistening  eyes. 

"Ah,  Rhoda!"  piped  Helen's  treble,  "we 
were  children  together,  were  we  not  ?  Oh  ! 
what  sorrows  I've  gone  through,  and  how  I 
have  been  longing  to  talk  to  you  !  " 

Before  Miss  Farren  could  reply,  a  feeble  wail 
arose  from  the  adjoining  room.  The  baby  had 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean.  13 

lost  no  time  in  announcing  its  presence,  and 
Helen  hurried  in  to  the  cradle.  Dim  as  the 
light  was,  her  mother  must  have  detected  the 
annoyance  on  Rhoda's  face.  Or  perhaps  her 
quick  instinct  served  her  instead  of  sight,  for 
she  hastened  to  say — 

"  It  doesn't  often  cry,  poor  little  mite !  But 
it  has  been  ailing  to-day." 

There  was  only  one  flight  of  stairs  in  the 
house.  As  Rhoda  slowly  ascended  them,  the 
loud,  steady  ticking  of  the  old  clock  brought 
back  many  a  childish  memory.  Would  the 
hours  pass  as  swiftly  and  brightly  as  they  had 
done  in  earlier  years  ?  She  sighed  as  she 
thought  of  all  the  small  miseries  that  would 
make  time  hang  heavily  on  her  hands.  It 
never  even  occurred  to  her  then  that 

"  No  true  life  is  long." 

A  fretful  spirit  will  spin  hours  out  of  minutes, 
and  weeks  out  of  days. 

"  I  told  you,  Rhoda,  my  dear,  that  we  had 
given  your  room  to  Helen.  I  said  so  in  a 


14  Nelly  ChannelL 


letter,  didn't  I  ? "  remarked  Mrs.  Farren,  leading 
the  way  into  the  chamber  that  she  had  pre- 
pared for  her  daughter.  "  This  is  nearly  as 
good.  And  I  felt  sure  that  you  would  not 
grudge  the  larger  room  to  that  poor  thing  and 
her  child." 

"  What  is  to  be,  must  be,"  Rhoda  replied. 

"Don't  stop  to  unpack  anything,"  continued 
her  mother,  trying  not  to  notice  the  gloomy 
answer.  "  Come  downstairs  again  as  soon  as 
you  can.  There's  a  good  fire,  and  a  bit  of 
something  nice  for  tea.  It's  a  kind  of  day  that 
takes  the  light  and  colour  out  of  everything," 
she  added,  with  a  slight  shiver.  "  I'll  *  never 
grumble  at  the  weather  that  God  sends  ;  yet 
I'm  always  glad  when  we've  got  through 
November." 

It  was  Rhoda  who  had  brought  the  damp 
mist  indoors.  It  was  Rhoda — God  forgive  her 
— who  had  taken  the  light  and  colour  out  of 
everything.  In  looking  back  upon  our  lives, 
we  must  always  see  the  dark  spots  where  we 
cast  our  shadow  on  another's  path — a  path 


The  Home  at  Huntsdean.  15 

which,  perhaps,  ran  very  close  beside  our  own. 
It  may  be  that  our  dear  ones,  enfolded  in  the 
sunlight  of  Paradise,  have  forgotten  the  gloom 
that  we  once  threw  over  their  earthly  way. 
But  we  never  can. 

When  Rhoda  went  down  into  the  old  parlour, 
she  found  it  glowing  with  fire  and  candle  light. 
Her  father  had  come  in  from  the  wet  fields  and 
the  sheepfolds,  and  was  waiting  to  give  her  a 
welcome.  Red  curtains  shut  out  the  foggy 
evening ;  red  lights  danced  on  the  well-spread 
table.  The  baby,  lying  open-eyed  on  Helen's 
lap,  had  its  thumb  in  its  mouth,  and  seemed 
disposed  for  quiet  contemplation.  The  black 
retriever,  stretched  upon  the  hearth-rug,  had 
finished  a  hard  day's  barking,  and  was  taking 
his  well-earned  repose. 

They  gave  her  the  best  chair  and  the 
warmest  seat.  All  that  household  love  could 
do  was  done  ;  and  she  began  to  thaw  a  little 
under  its  influence. 

Once  or  twice  Helen  tried  to  introduce  the 
subject  of  her  troubles,  but  the  farmer  and  his 


1 6  Nelly  Channell. 

wife  quietly  put  it  aside.  Rhoda  had  made  no 
secret  of  her  resentment.  There  were  many 
other  things  to  be  told  ;  little  episodes  in  village 
lives ;  little  stories  of  neighbours  and  friends. 
The  talk  flowed  on  like  a  woodland  stream  that 
glides  over  this  obstacle  and  under  that.  It 
was  threading  a  difficult  and  intricate  way,  but 
it  kept  on  flowing,  till  night  broke  up  the  family 
group. 


II. 

BROTHER    AND    SISTER.-RHODA    FARREN 
PERPLEXED. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BROTHER   AND    SISTER. — RHODA   FARREN 
PERPLEXED. 

THE  father  and  mother  retired  first,  then  Helen. 
John  seated  himself  in  the  farmer's  large  arm- 
chair, and  looked  at  Rhoda  as  she  sat  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fire.  These  after-supper  talks 
had  been  a  custom  with  them  in  the  old  days. 
The  sister  knew  by  her  brother's  glance  that  he 
understood  her  mood,  and  was  prepared  for  a 
long  chat. 

It  is  a  trying  thing  for  a  woman  that  a  man 
will  seldom  begin  a  subject,  however  full  his 
heart  may  be  of  it.  He  will  wait,  with  indo- 
mitable patience,  until  she  speaks  the  first  word, 
and  after  that  he  will  go  on  glibly  enough. 
Rhoda  first  learned  to  understand  something  of 
man's  nature  by  studying  John,  and  she  knew 
perfectly  well  that  she  should  never  get  a 
19 


2O  Nelly  Channell. 

sentence  out  of  him  unless  she  broke  the 
silence. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  little  move- 
ment of  impatience,  "  this  is  a  miserable  busi- 
ness. I  never  thought  that  I  should  come  back 
to  the  old  home  and  find  the  wife  and  child  of 
a  felon  comfortably  settled  in  it.  But  there  is 
no  end  to  sin — no  limit  to  the  audacity  of 
criminals.  It  is  not  enough  for  Robert  Clarris 
to  rob  his  employer,  he  must  also  thrust  his  own 
lawful  burdens  on  other  folks'  shoulders." 

"  When  one  commits  a  crime,"  replied  John 
gravely,  "one  never  foresees  what  it  entails. 
When  Clarris  found  that  discovery  was  inevit- 
able, he  came  home  to  his  wife  and  asked  her 
to  fly  with  him.  But  she  would  not  go  " 

"  How  could  she  go  ?  "  interrupted  Rhoda  in- 
dignantly. "  Think  of  her  condition,  and  of  the 
misery  and  disgrace  of  following  his  fortunes. 
He  is  a  base  man  indeed." 

John  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  burning  log  in  the  grate. 
More  than  once  his  lips  opened  and  shut  again. 


Brother  and  Sister.  21 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  very  hard  on  me,"  he 
said  at  length,  "if  I  own  that  I've  a  sort  of 
tenderness  for  this  poor  sinner.  I  don't  mean 
to  make  light  of  his  crime,  but  I  believe  that 
when  he  took  the  money  he  intended  to  pay  it 
back." 

"  Oh,  John,"  said  Rhoda  severely,  "  I  am 
really  ashamed  of  you !  What  has  come  to 
your  moral  perceptions  ?  There  is  a  saying  that 
the  way  to  hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions ; 
— of  course  this  man  will  try  to  excuse  himself. 
The  world  has  got  into  a  habit  of  petting  its 
criminals,  and  it  is  one  of  the  worst  signs  of  the 
times.  As  Mrs.  Elton  used  to  say,  it  would  be 
well  if  we  could  have  the  good  old  days  back 
again  ! " 

"  The  good  old  days  when  men  were  hung 
for  sheep-stealing,  and  starving  women  were 
sentenced  to  death  for  taking  a  loaf!"  retorted 
John  with  unusual  heat.  "  How  I  hate  to  hear 
that  cant  about  the  good  old  days  !  And  when 
the  gallows  and  the  pillory  and  the  stocks 
were  so  busy,  did  they  stop  the  Mohawks  in 


Nelly  Channell. 


their  fiendish  pranks  at  night  ?  or  did  they 
put  down  the  Gordon  riots  till  the  mob  had 
begun  to  sack  and  pillage  London  ?  I  am  glad 
the  world  is  changed,  and  I  hope  it  will  go  on 
changing." 

"  If  we  change  from  over-severity  to  over- 
mercy,  we  shall  just  have  to  go  back  to  over- 
severity  again,"  replied  Rhoda. 

"No,  Rhoda,"  he  said  more  calmly.  "By 
that  time  we  shall  have  got  to  the  days  '  when 
the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the  seas.'  " 

Rhoda  looked  at  her  brother  and  wondered. 
These  were  strange  words  to  hear  from  a  young 
man  living  in  a  Hampshire  village,  where  every- 
thing seemed  to  be  standing  still.  There  was 
no  more  talk  that  night.  It  was  evident  to 
Rhoda  that  John  had  shot  ahead  of  her  in  the 
road  of  life.  Not  being  able  to  say  whether  he 
were  in  a  bad  way  or  a  good  way,  she  said 
nothing  and  went  to  bed. 


III. 

d  SPARED  LIFE.— NEWS  FROM  ROBERT 
CLARRIS. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  SPARED   LIFE. — NEWS    FROM    ROBERT 
CLARRIS. 

A  GREAT  sorrow  is  like  a  mountain  in  our  way : 
we  must  either  climb  to  its  top,  or  lie  grovelling 
at  its  base.  If  we  grovel,  the  path  of  life  is 
blocked  up  for  ever,  and  the  shadow  of  our 
misery  is  upon  us  night  and  day.  If  we  climb, 
we  shall  find  purer  air  and  fairer  regions. 
Heaven  will  be  nearer  to  us,  the  world  will  lie 
beneath  our  feet ; — we  shall  bless  God  for  the 
trial  that  has  lifted  us  so  high  above  our  old 
selves.  We  shall  comprehend  a  little  of  the 
vast  Love  that  reared  the  mountain  ; — ay,  we 
shall  break  forth  into  singing,  "  Thou,  Lord,  of 
Thy  goodness,  hast  made  my  hill  so  strong  !  " 

It  was  clear  that  Helen  would  never  climb 
her  mountain.  In  the  old  days,  although  she 
was  three  years  older  than  her  cousin,  Rhoda 

"5 


26  Nelly  Channell. 

had  found  out  that  nothing  would  ever  lift  her 
above  the  dead  level  of  life.  Always  beautiful, 
always  common -place,  always  a  little  sly — such 
were  her  childish  characteristics,  and  they  were 
unaltered  by  time.  Her  beauty  was  of  that 
kind  which  inevitably  gives  a  false  impression. 
Every  smile  was  a  poem  ;  every  glance  seemed 
to  tell  of  thoughts  too  deep  for  words.  She 
was  the  very  impersonation  of  the  German  Elle- 
maid — as  hollow  a  piece  of  loveliness  as  ever 
sat  by  the  roadside  in  the  old  Schwarzwald, 
and  lured  unwary  travellers  to  accept  the  fatal 
goblet  or  kiss. 

When  she  said,  tearfully,  that  Robert  Clarris 
had  fallen  in  love  at  their  first  interview,  and 
would  not  rest  till  he  had  married  her,  Rhoda 
knew  that  she  spoke  the  simple  truth.  No  one 
who  looked  into  the  eloquent  brown  eyes,  and 
watched  the  play  of  the  sweet  lips,  could  mar- 
vel at  Robert's  impetuosity.  One  could  under- 
stand how  that  fair  face  had  drawn  out  the  old 
Samson  cry,  "  Get  her  for  me,  for  she  pleaseth 
me  well." 


A  Spared  Life.  27 

"  I  might  have  done  far  better,  Rhoda,"  she 
said,  plaintively  ;  "  but  I  had  a  hard  situation, 
and  I  wanted  to  get  out  of  it.  You  don't  know 
the  misery  of  being  nursery  governess.  One  is 
just  like  the  bat  in  the  fable,  neither  a  bird 
nor  a  beast — neither  a  lady  nor  a  servant.  The 
position  is  bad  enough  for  an  ugly  girl ;  but  it 
is  ten  times  worse  for  a  pretty  one." 

No  one  could  blame  Helen  for  speaking  of 
her  beauty  as  an  established  fact. 

"  When  I  was  married  to  Robert,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  I  soon  began  to  be  disappointed  in 
him.  There  was  an  end  to  all  the  nice  little 
attentions.  I  was  almost  his  goddess  until  I 
became  his  wife." 

"  Oh,  that's  a  very  old  story,"  responded 
Rhoda.  "  Lovers  are  just  like  our  old  apple 
trees ;  one  would  think  to  see  the  quantity  of 
blossom  that  there  would  be  a  deal  of  fruit ; 
but  there  never  is.  Great  promise  and  small 
fulfilment — that's  always  the  case  with  men." 

"  He  was  dreadfully  stingy,"  went  on  Helen, 
"  He  worried  me  sadly  about  my  expenses.  I 


28  Nelly  Channell. 

was  not  allowed  enough  money  to  keep  myself 
decently  dressed.  I  think  he  liked  to  see  me 
shabby." 

"  You  are  wearing  a  very  good  dress  at  this 
moment,"  remarked  Rhoda. 

"Yes,  this  is  well  enough,"  answered  her 
cousin,  colouring  slightly.  "  I  was  obliged  to 
get  things  without  his  leave  sometimes,  or  I 
should  have  looked  like  a  scarecrow.  Robert 
would  never  believe  that  I  wanted  any  clothes." 

"  What  did  he  do  with  the  money  that  he 
stole  ? "  Rhoda  asked  abruptly. 

"  How  should  I  know  ? "  sighed  Helen.  "  He 
never  gave  a  shilling  of  it  to  me.  One  day  he 
came  home  and  told  me,  quite  suddenly,  that 
his  sin  must  be  discovered.  I  thought  that  he 
was  crazed,  and  when  I  found  that  he  was  in 
his  right  mind,  I  nearly  lost  my  senses.  Never 
get  married,  Rhoda  ;  take  my  advice,  and  be  a 
single  woman.  It's  the  only  way  to  keep  out 
of  misery." 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  marrying,  Helen,"  re- 
plied Rhoda,  rather  sharply ;  "  but  every  mar- 


A  Spared  Life.  29 

riage  is  not  such  a  mistake  as  yours  has  been. 
God  knew  what  He  was  about,  I  suppose,  when 
He  brought  Adam  and  Eve  together.  There's 
little  sense  in  abusing  a  good  road  just  because 
you  couldn't  walk  upright  on  it." 

"  You  would  not  have  found  it  easy  to  walk 
with  Robert,"  said  Helen,  mournfully.  "And 
now  he  has  gone  off,  and  has  left  me  sticking 
in  the  mire  !  It's  worse  than  being  a  widow.'' 

Rhoda  melted  at  once  at  the  thought  of 
Helen's  desolate  condition. 

"  Perhaps  he  may  really  get  on  in  Australia," 
she  rejoined,  trying  to  speak  hopefully ;  "  and 
then  he  may  send  for  you  and  the  child. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !  "  returned  Helen,  with  a 
little  start.  "  If  he  gets  on,  he  will  send  home 
money  for  us  ;  but  I  do  not  want  to  live  with 
him  again." 

There  can  be  no  separation  so  utter  and 
hopeless  as  that  which  parts  two  who  have 
been  made  one.  The  closer  the  union,  the 
more  complete  is  the  disunion.  Even  at  that 
moment,  when  Rhoda's  wrath  was  hot  against 


30  Nelly  ChannelL 


Robert  Clarris,  she  was  struck  with  Helen's 
entire  lack  of  wifely  feeling.  She  could  almost 
have  pitied  the  man  who  had  so  thoroughly 
alienated  the  mother  of  his  child.  And  then 
she  reflected  that  this  dread  of  reunion  on 
Helen's  part  told  fearfully  against  him.  Helen 
was  weak,  but  was  she  not  also  gentle  and 
affectionate  ?  Better,  indeed,  was  it  for  them 
to  keep  asunder  until  another  life  should 
present  each  to  the  other  under  a  new  aspect. 

She  did  not  pursue  the  subject  further. 
With  a  sudden  desire  to  be  away  from  Helen 
and  her  troubles,  she  wrapped  herself  in  a 
thick  shawl,  and  went  up  the  fields  that  rose 
behind  the  cottage.  On  the  highest  land  the 
farmer  was  mending  a  fence.  She  could  hear 
the  strokes  of  his  mallet  as  he  drove  the 
stakes  into  the  ground. 

As  Rhoda  drew  near,  she  stood  still  and 
looked  at  him — a  hale,  handsome  man,  whose 
face,  fringed  by  an  iron-grey  beard,  was  like 
a  rosy  russet  apple  set  in  grey  lichen.  His 
smock-frock  showed  white  against  the  dark 


A  Spared  Life.  '  31 

background  of  brown  trees.  The  air  was  so 
quiet  that  one  could  listen  to  his  breathing 
as  his  strong  arms  dealt  the  sturdy  blows. 

She  was  proud  of  him  as  she  stood  there 
in  the  wide  field  watching  him  unseen.  He 
would  leave  her  nothing  save  the  legacy  of 
an  unstained  name,  but  the  worth  thereof  was 
far  above  rubies.  No  one  would  sneer  at  her 
as  the  daughter  of  a  disgraced  man.  No 
one  would  whisper,  "She  comes  of  a  bad 
stock  ;  take  heed  how  you  trust  her."  Many 
a  rogue  has  wriggled  out  of  well-earned 
punishment  with  the  aid  of  his  sire's  good 
name.  Many  an  honest  Christian  has  gone 
groaning  through  life  under  the  burden  of  a 
parent's  evil  reputation. 

With  this  pride  in  him  Rhoda  was  uncon- 
sciously blending  a  pride  in  herself.  "  Some 
eyes,"  she  thought,  "are  too  blind  to  see  their 
blessings ;  I  am  quick  of  sight.  The  Author 
and  Giver  of  all  good  things  finds  in  me  a 
grateful  receiver." 

Thus  she  loudly  echoed   the   Pharisee's  cry 


32  Nelly  Channell. 


"  Lord,  I  thank  Thee  that  I  am  not  as  other 
men."  And  never,  perhaps,  is  the  Divine 
patience  so  severely  tried  as  when  that  self- 
complacent  voice  is  heard.  How  sweet  in 
Christ's  ears  must  be  those  other  voices — 
stealing  up  to  Him  through  the  egotist's  love- 
less Te  Deum — breathing  the  publican's  old 
prayer,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  ! " 

It  was  a  day  of  sober  brightness.  A  white 
mist  had  risen  above  the  western  slopes,  and 
the  setting  sun  shone  through  it.  Brown 
furrows  had  begun  to  take  a  rich  auburn 
tinge;  tree-shadows  crept  farther  and  farther 
across  the  green  sod  ;  crows  flew  heavily 
homewards.  From  the  wet  thickets  came  the 
old  fresh  ferny  scents,  sweetening  the  calm 
air.  The  mallet  blows  ceased  ;  the  farmer 
had  ended  his  task,  and  turned  towards  his 
daughter. 

"You  are  not  sorry  to  get  back  to  our 
fields,  Rhoda?"  he  said.  "You'll  see  the 
primroses  showing  their  pretty  faces  by-and- 
by.  Ah,  it  seems  but  yesterday  that  you 


A  Spared  Life.  33 

and  Helen  were  filling  your  pinafores  with 
them  ! " 

"  Helen's  winter  has  come  before  its  time, 
father,"  answered  Miss  Farren,  gravely.  "Her 
wicked  husband  has  made  her  life  desolate." 

"  And  his  own  too,"  added  the  farmer,  in  a 
pitying  tone. 

"  That  is  as  it  should  be,"  returned  Rhoda, 
quickly.  "  He  has  escaped  the  punishment 
he  merited  ;  but  there's  satisfaction  in  knowing 
that  God's  justice  will  surely  reach  him." 

"Ay,"  murmured  the  farmer  softly,  "God's 
mercy  will  surely  reach  him." 

"  God's  favour  is  for  those  who  walk  up- 
rightly," said  Rhoda. 

"  Ah,  Rhoda,  the  mercy  is  granted  before 
they  learn  to  walk  uprightly,"  replied  her 
father.  "  It  comes  to  those  who  have  fallen 
and  are  ready  to  perish.  There  are  few  of 
us  who  can  see  ourselves  in  every  criminal,  as 
old  Baxter  did.  And  there  are  fewer  still  who 
can  believe  that  a  man  may  come  out  of  the 
Slough  of  Despond  cleaner  than  he  went  in." 

D 


34  Nelly  Channell. 

They  turned  towards  the  house,  walking 
silently  down  the  green  slopes.  Rhoda  was 
angry  and  perplexed ;  what  was  the  use  of 
living  a  respectable  life  if  sinners  were  to  be 
highly  esteemed  ?  When  she  spoke  again  it 
was  in  a  harsh  tone. 

"Robert  Clarris  has  found  defenders,  it 
seems !  A  man  who  has  committed  such  a 
crime  as  his  should  scarcely  be  so  lightly 
forgiven  ! " 

"  There  is  one  thing  I'd  have  you  remember, 
Rhoda,"  said  the  farmer,  patiently,  "and  that 
is,  the  difference  between  falling  into  sin  and 
living  in  sin.  It's  just  the  difference  between 
the  man  who  loves  and  hugs  his  disease  and 
he  who  writhes  under  it,  and  longs  to  be  cured." 

"Even  supposing  that  this  is  Robert's  first 
fault,"  continued  Miss  Farren,  "  there  must 
have  been  a  long  course  of  unsteady  walking 
before  such  a  fall  could  be  brought  about." 

"  Maybe  not,"  her  father  responded.  "  Some 
men  lose  their  characters,  Rhoda,  as  others 
lose  their  lives,  by  being  off  their  guard  for 


A  Spared  Life.  35 

one  moment.  And  when  you  talk  of  God's 
justice,  recollect  that  it  means  something  very 
different  from  man's  judgment.  The  Lord 
hates  the  sin  worse  than  we  do,  but  He  knows 
what  we  can  never  know — the  strength  of  the 
temptation." 

By  that  time  the  pair  had  descended  the 
last  slope,  and  were  drawing  near  the  cottage. 
The  back-door  stood  open.  Rhoda  could  see 
the  red  glow  of  the  kitchen  fire,  and  the  out- 
line of  her  mother's  figure  as  she  moved  to 
and  fro.  It  was  a  pleasant  glimpse  of  house- 
hold warmth  and  light,  and  it  charmed  her 
ill  temper  away.  But  she  did  not  remember 
that  there  might  be  wanderers  in  the  world 
at  that  moment — driven  out  into  life's  wilder- 
ness by  sin — whose  hearts  would  well-nigh 
break  at  this  little  glimpse  of  a  home.  She 
did  not  think  of  that  awful  sense  of  loss  which 
crime  must  leave  behind  it.  Perhaps  that 
open  house-door  had  suggested  thoughts  like 
these  to  the  farmer,  for  he  paused  before  they 
entered. 


36  Nelly  Channell. 

"  Rhoda,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "  never  fall  into 
the  mistake  of  thinking  that  sinners  aren't 
punished  enough.  It's  a  very  common  blunder. 
Many  a  man  might  have  hanged  himself,  as 
Judas  did,  if  Christ  hadn't  stepped  in  and 
shown  him  what  the  atonement  is.  It  is  to 
the  Davids  and  Peters  and  Sauls  that  He 
says,  '  Where  sin  abounded,  grace  did  much 
more  abound.'  " 

November  came  to  an  end.  December  set 
in  with  biting  winds  and  gloomy  skies,  and 
then  followed  a  sharp,  wintry  Christmas. 

It  was  a  hard  time  for  the  birds.  Rhoda 
would  sit  at  the  window  and  watch  them 
congregating  on  the  brier-bush  in  the  corner 
of  the  garden.  Now  it  was  a  plump  thrush, 
puffing  out  its  speckled  breast,  and  feasting 
on  the  scarlet  hips  ;  now  it  was  a  blackbird, 
with  dusky  plumage  and  yellow  bill.  Then 
a  score  of  finches  and  sparrows  would  alight 
on  the  frozen  •  snow,  and  quarrel  over  the 
crumbs  that  she  had  scattered  there.  All  day 
the  sky  was  grey  and  clear;  but  sometimes 


A  Spared  Life.  37 

at  sunset,  a  flush  would  rest  upon  the  white 
fields,  tinting  them  with  the  delicate  pink  of 
half-opened  apple-blossoms. 

On  Christmas  Eve,  Rhoda  Farren  sat  watch- 
ing the  hungry  birds  no  longer.  A  little 
human  life  was  drawing  very  near  to  immor- 
tality. The  baby — Helen's  wee,  fragile  baby 
— was  hovering  between  two  worlds. 

And  then,  for  the  first  time,  all  Rhoda's 
sleeping  instincts  started  up,  awake  and  strong. 
Anger  and  selfishness  were  alike  forgotten. 
Let  the  solemn  feet  of  death  be  heard  upon 
the  threshold  of  the  house,  and  all  the  petty 
wranglings  of  its  inmates  are  stilled.  He  was 
coming — "the  angel  with  the  amaranthine 
wreath " — but  Rhoda  held  the  little  one  in 
her  arms,  and  prayed  the  Father  to  shut  the 
door  against  him. 

We  know  not  what  we  ask  when  we  pray 
for  a  child's  life.  We  are  pleading  with  the 
Good  Shepherd  that  He  will  leave  a  little 
lamb  in  the  wilderness  instead  of  taking  it 
into  the  fold.  We  are  asking  that  it  may 


38  Nelly  ChannelL 

tread  the  long,  toilsome  way  home,  instead  of 
the  short,  smooth  path  that  leads  straight  to 
rest.  Surely  our  Lord  never  loves  us  better 
than  when  He  says  nay  to  such  prayers  as 
these.  When  we  become  even  as  they — the 
little  children — and  enter  into  the  kingdom, 
we  shall  understand  the  infinite  compassion 
of  His  denial. 

Christmas  night  closed  in  ;  and  outside  the 
cottage,  the  mummers,  gay  in  patchwork  and 
ribbons,  clashed  their  tin  swords,  and  sang  their 
foolish  rhymes.  John  went  out  and  entreated 
them  to  go  away.  A  glance  through  the  open 
door  showed  Rhoda  the  clear,  broad  moonlight, 
shining  over  the  snow-waste,  and  she  heard  the 
subdued  voices  of  the  men  as  they  went  off 
to  some  happier  house.  Then  the  door  closed 
again,  and  she  saw  nothing  but  the  little  child's 
wan  face. 

"If  it  were  taken,"  she  thought,  "they  should 
all  feel  something  as  the  shepherds  did  when 
'  the  angels  were  gone  away  from  them  into 
heaven.'  "  Even  she  had  begun  to  realize  that 


A  Spared  Life.  39 

a  babe  is  indeed  God's  angel  in  a  household. 
Often,  like  those  Christmas  angels,  it  stays 
just  long  enough  to  be  the  messenger  of  peace 
and  good-will,  and  then  returns  to  Him  who 
sent  it.  Like  them,  it  leaves  us  without  an 
earth-stain  on  its  vesture  ;  without  a  regret  for 
the  world  from  which  it  is  so  soon  with- 
drawn. 

But  Helen's  little  one  was  to  remain.  The 
household  rejoiced,  and  Rhoda  learnt  to  re- 
cognise herself  in  a  new  character.  She  became 
the  baby's  head-nurse  and  most  devoted  slave. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  child  ? "  she  asked, 
as  it  gained  strength  and  beauty.  "  It  will  be 
as  pretty  as  Helen  by-and-by." 

"It  has  a  look  of  Robert,"  said  the  farmer, 
thoughtfully. 

Rhoda's  smiles  fled.  She  wanted  to  forget 
the  relationship  between  that  man  a:id  her 
darling.  Nor  was  she  without  a  fear  that  it 
might  have  inherited  some  touch  of  his  evil 
nature.  Her  heart  never  softened  towards  him 
because  he  was  the  father  of  the  child.  And 


40  Nelly  ChannelL 

yet  how  much  richer  her  life  had  grown  since 
she  had  taken  the  baby  into  it  ! 

The  snow  lay  long  upon  the  ground.  It  was 
so  lengthened  a  winter,  that  spring  seemed  to 
come  suddenly.  There  was  a  burst  of  prim- 
roses on  the  borders  of  the  fields.  They  lit  up 
shady  places  with  their  pale  yellow  stars,  and 
spread  themselves  out  in  sheets.  Every  puff 
of  wind  was  sweet  with  the  breath  of  violets ; 
birds  sang  their  old  carols — now  two  or  three 
clear  notes — now  a  shake — then  a  long  whistle. 
All  God's  works  praised  Him  in  the  freshness 
of  their  new  life.  Old  dry  stumps,  that  Rhoda 
had  thought  dead  and  useless,  began  to  put 
forth  green  shoots.  The  earth  teemed  with 
surprises  ;  all  around  there  was  a  continual 
assertion  of  vitality.  And  so  hard  is  it  to 
distinguish  the  barrenness  of  winter  from  the 
barrenness  of  death,  that  every  spring  has  its 
seeming  miracles.  The  tree  that  our  impatient 
hands  had  well-nigh  hewn  down  may  be  our 
sweetest  shelter  in  the  heat  of  summer  noon- 
tide. 


A  Spared  Life.  41 

Not  until  the  high  winds  had  sent  the  blos- 
soms drifting  over  the  orchards  like  a  second 
snowfall,  did  there  come  news  of  Helen's  hus- 
band. 

The  tidings  came  through  Mr.  Elton.  Clarris 
had  written  to  him,  enclosing  a  letter  for  his 
wife.  He  had  also  sent  notes  to  the  amount 
of  forty  pounds  to  his  former  employer.  From 
time  to  time  he  promised  money  should  be 
forwarded  until  the  whole  sum  that  he  had 
taken  was  restored. 

"  I  believe,"  wrote  Mr.  Elton  to  the  farmer, 
"  that  he  will  keep  his  word.  He  does  not,  he 
declares,  hope  to  wipe  out  his  sin  by  this 
restitution.  '  I  am  not  one  whit  better  than 
any  other  criminal,'  he  writes,  '  but  I  have  been 
more  leniently  dealt  with  than  most  of  my 
brethren.  God's  mercy,  acting  through  you, 
has  done  much  for  me.'  " 

Helen  did  not  show  Rhoda  the  letter  that 
had  been  received.  She  was  paler  and  sadder 
after  reading  it,  but  she  said  nothing  about  its 
contents.  Rhoda  took  the  child  in  her  arms, 


42  Nelly  CJiannell. 

leaving  its  mother  sitting  in  silence,  and  went 
out  into  the  garden. 

The  wild  winds  had  sunk  to  rest.  A  light 
shower  had  fallen  in  the  early  morning,  beating 
out  the  sweetness  of  the  new-born  roses,  and 
the  long,  soft  grass.  The  old  walks  glittered 
and  twinkled  in  the  sunshine.  The  sky  was 
radiantly  blue,  and  the  clouds  were  fair. 

"After  all,"  thought  Rhoda,  looking  upward 
with  a  sudden  lifting  of  the  spirit,  "heaven  is 
full  of  forgiven  sinners  1 " 


IV. 

AN  INVITATION  FROM  SQUIRE  DERRICK. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN   INVITATION   FROM   SQUIRE  DERRICK. 

As  the  summer  advanced,  Helen's  spirits  rose. 
She  was  not  the  pale,  plaintive  woman  that 
Rhoda  had  found  on  her  return  from  London. 
Her  beauty  brightened  visibly,  and  more  than 
one  neighbour  remarked  that  it  was  a  sin  and 
a  shame  for  such  a  pretty  creature  to  be  tied 
up  to  a  man  who  was  nothing  but  a  cross  to 
her. 

Perhaps  Helen  herself  was  of  the  same 
opinion.  The  baby  was  given  up  more  and 
more  to  Rhoda's  care,  while  its  mother  went 
freely  to  the  villagers'  houses.  She  was  one  of 
those  women  to  whom  admiration  is  as  neces- 
sary as  their  daily  food.  Her  pleasure  in  her 
own  loveliness  amused  while  it  saddened  her 
cousin.  There  was  something  in  it  that  seemed 
akin  to  the  delight  of  a  child  in  its  fine  clothes. 

45 


46  Nelly  Channel!. 

Helen's  mind  had  never  grown  with  her  body. 
But  Rhoda  and  the  others  had  got  into  the 
habit  of  viewing  her  weaknesses  indulgently. 
And  they  gratified  the  little  fancies  that  were, 
as  a  rule,  harmless  enough. 

They  had  their  first  disagreement  at  the  end 
of  August.  There  was  an  early  harvest  that 
year.  In  the  southern  counties  most  of  the 
wheat  was  cut  and  stacked  before  September 
set  in.  The  crops  were  plentiful,  and  there 
was  rejoicing  on  all  sides.  But  it  was  not 
always  the  right  kind  of  rejoicing. 

"It's  a  strange  way  that  some  folks  have 
got  of  thanking  the  Lord  of  the  harvest," 
remarked  Farmer  Farren  one  day.  "  He  gives 
them  bread  enough  to  satisfy  all  their  wants, 
and  they  must  needs  show  their  gratitude  by 
stupefying  themselves  with  beer !  I  used  to 
think,  when  I  was  a  lad,  that  'twas  an  odd 
thing  for  King  David  to  go  a-dancing  before 
the  Almighty  with  all  his  might.  But  there's 
more  sense  in  dancing  than  in  drinking  for 

joy." 


An  Invitation  from  Squire  Derrick.   47 

Father  and  daughter  stood  side  by  side, 
leaning  against  the  garden  wall  ;  for  it  was 
evening,  and  the  farmer's  work  was  done. 
Just  before  he  spoke,  some  drunken  shouts 
disturbed  the  quiet  air.  Labourers  were  roys- 
tering  in  the  village  tavern,  and  many  a  wife's 
temper  was  sorely  tried  that  night. 

"O  Uncle,  I  am  glad  you  don't  think  it's 
wrong  to  dance ! "  cried  Helen,  coming  sud- 
denly out  of  the  house.  "  Here's  good  news ! 
Squire  Derrick  is  going  to  give  a  feast  in  his 
park  next  Friday.  I  know  that  John  can't  go, 
because  of  his  sprained  ankle  ;  but  William 
Gill  will  drive  us  to  the  park  in  his  chaise. 
There'll  be  room  for  Rhoda  and  me  and  Mrs. 
Gill." 

"  But,  Helen,  I  don't  go  to  merry-makings," 
said  Rhoda,  gravely.  "  We  have  never  taken 
part  in  anything  of  that  kind.  And  as  to 
father's  remark,  King  David's  sort  of  dancing 
was  very  different  from  the  waltzes  and  polkas 
and  galops  that  there  will  be  on  Friday 
night" 


48  Nelly  Channell. 

Helen's  face  clouded  like  that  of  a  disap- 
pointed child. 

O  Uncle,  would  there  be  any  harm  in  my 
dancing  ?  "  she  asked. 

"No  harm  exactly,  my  girl,"  responded  the 
farmer  uneasily,  as  he  picked  a  piece  of  dry 
moss  off  the  wall.  "  But  even  when  things 
are  lawful,  they  are  not  always  expedient 
You  are  a  married  woman,  you  see,  and  your 
husband's  under  a  cloud,  and  miles  away — poor 
fellow!" 

"  Ah !  "  sighed  Helen,  "  I'm  always  doomed 
to  suffer  for  his  sins  !  I  thought  that  perhaps 
a  little  bit  of  fun  would  help  me  to  forget 
my  troubles." 

Poor  Helen  was  still  grovelling  at  the  foot 
of  her  mountain. 

Large  tears  stood  in  her  soft  eyes.  The 
farmer  gave  her  a  quick  glance,  then  looked 
away,  and  busied  himself  with  the  little 
cushion  of  moss  that  still  lay  in  his  broad 
palm.  At  heart  he  was  more  than  half  a 
Puritan,  and  hated  jigs  and  feastings  as  lustily 


An  Invitation  from  Squire  Derrick.  49 

as  did  the  Gideons  and  Grace-be -heres  of 
Cromwell's  day.  But  he  was  far  too  tender- 
natured  a  man  to  bear  the  sight  of  a  woman's 
tears. 

But  for  that  unfortunate  allusion  which  her 
father  had  made  to  Robert  Clarris,  Rhoda 
would  have  set  her  face  as  a  flint  against 
going  to  the  fete.  But  his  tone  of  pity 
stirred  up  all  her  old  resentment.  Why  was 
this  young  wife,  lovely  and  foolish,  left  with- 
out her  lawful  protector  ?  Had  she  not  said 
truly  that  she  was  doomed  to  suffer  for  his 
sins  ?  After  all,  it  was  scarcely  her  fault, 
perhaps,  that  she  was  not  elevated  by  her 
trial.  To  "erect  ourselves  above  ourselves" 
is  a  bliss  that  we  do  not  all  reach.  And  it 
is  a  bliss  which  bears  such  a  close  relation- 
ship to  pain,  that  one  has  no  right  to  be 
hard  on  a  fellow-mortal  who  chooses  the  lower 
ground. 

Thoughts  like  these  were  passing  through 
Rhoda's  mind,  while  Helen  still  wept  silently. 
But  it  did  not  occur  to  Miss  Farren  that  the 

E 


50  Nelly  Channell. 

truest  kindness  that  can  be  done  to  another 
is  to  raise  him.  She  forgot  that  it  is  better 
to  stretch  out  a  hand  and  say,  "  Friend,  come 
up  higher,"  than  to  step  down  to  his  level. 
At  that  moment  she  thought  only  of  pacifying 
Helen.  Of  late  her  cousin  had  grown  very 
dear  to  her,  partly,  perhaps,  for  the  sake  of 
her  little  child.  Her  whole  soul  recoiled  from 
the  harvest-feast  She  hated  the  clownish 
merriment,  and  the  dancing  and  drinking ; 
and  yet,  to  please  Helen,  she  was  willing  to 
endure  much  that  was  distasteful. 

"  If  you  would  promise  not  to  dance, 
Helen,"  she  began,  hesitatingly.  Her  father 
looked  up  in  undisguised  astonishment. 

"Why,  Rhoda,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  think 
anything  in  the  world  would  have  made  you 
go!" 

"  O  Rhoda,  how  good  of  you  to  give  way  !  " 
cried  Helen,  brightening.  "Of  course  I'll 
promise.  It's  just  like  her,  Uncle :  she  was 
always  the  most  unselfish  girl  on  earth !  She 
doesn't  despise  me  because  I'm  weak-minded, 


An  Invitation  from  Squire  Derrick.   51 

and  like  a  little  bit  of  pleasure.  Ah,  how 
kind  she  is  ! " 

The  farmer  said  no  more.  He  had  a  great 
reverence  for  his  daughter,  and  would  not 
take  the  matter  out  of  her  hands.  But  he 
went  indoors  with  a  grave  face ;  and  Helen 
followed  him  in  a  flutter  of  delight. 

As  Rhoda  lingered  that  evening  in  the 
dewy  twilight,  she  began  to  charge  herself 
with  cowardice.  It  would  have  been  hard  to 
have  held  out  against  Helen's  desires.  And 
yet — for  Helen's  own  sake — ought  she  not  to 
have  been  firm  ?  Most  of  us  suffer  if  we 
stifle  our  instincts ;  and  hers  had  told  her 
that  this  feast  was  no  place  for  her  cousin. 

"  It  shall  be  the  last  time  that  I  am  weak," 
she  thought,  hoping  to  atone  for  the  present 
by  the  future.  "I  will  let  her  have  her  way 
this  once,  and  then  I  will  set  myself  to  guide 
her  in  a  better  path." 

The  grey,  transparent  veil  of  dusk  stole 
down,  and  the  clear  stars  shone  through  it. 
A  little  wind  came  creeping  up  the  garden 


52  Nelly  Channell. 

like  a  human  sigh.  One  or  two  white  moths 
flitted  past,  and  a  bird  uttered  a  sleepy, 
smothered  note.  For  a  minute  she  loitered 
in  the  porch,  listening  to  the  pleasant,  house- 
hold stir  within.  Helen's  laugh  mingled 
with  John's  cheery  tones  and  the  clatter  of 
supper-plates. 

"  Where  is  Rhoda  ? "  she  heard  her  mother 
say. 

The  jessamine,  which  grew  all  over  the 
porch,  swung  its  slender  sprays  into  her  face. 
The  sweet,  chill  blossoms  kissed  her  lips  as 
she  passed  beneath  them  ;  but  she  went 
indoors  with  an  unquiet  mind. 


V. 

HELEN  UNDER  A  NEW  ASPECT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HELEN   UNDER  A   NEW  ASPECT. 

ON  Friday  afternoon,  Helen's  chamber-door 
chanced  to  be  left  open,  and  Rhoda  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  delicate  silk  dress  lying  on 
the  bed.  She  went  straight  into  the  room 
and  examined  it.  Bodice  and  sleeves  were 
trimmed  profusely  with  costly  lace;  the  rich 
lilac  folds  might  have  stood  alone,  so  thick 
was  the  texture.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  dress 
that  should  have  belonged  to  the  wife  of  a 
merchant's  clerk.  Rhoda  was  perplexed. 

"  Isn't  it  handsome  1 "  asked  Helen's  voice 
behind  her. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  thinking  of  wearing 
it  this  evening,"  said  Rhoda.  "  It's  a  most 
unsuitable  dress  for  a  country  merry-making. 
Do  put  on  something  plainer,  Helen." 

"O  Rhoda,"  she   pleaded,    "I   am    not  like 

55 


56  Nelly  ChannelL 


you  ;  I  can't  abide  browns  and  greys !  I  want 
to  be  dressed  as  the  flowers  are !  You  loved 
the  lilacs  when  they  were  in  bloom ;  why 
may  I  not  copy  them  ?  " 

"  Their  dress  costs  nothing,"  said  Rhoda, 
"and  the  silk  is  a  poor  imitation  of  them. 
Even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  wasn't  arrayed 
-like  the  lilies  of  the  field.  This  gown  must 
have  been  very  expensive,  Helen." 

"It  is  the  best  I  have,"  answered  Helen, 
flushing  slightly.  "  I  should  like  to  give  it 
an  airing,  Rhoda.  I  own  I  am  fond  of  fine 
clothes,  but  you  are  so  kind  that  you  won't 
be  angry  with  a  poor  silly  thing  like  me !  " 

Again  Rhoda's  strength  was  no  match  for 
her  cousin's  weakness.  She  went  out  of  the 
room  without  saying  another  word  about  the 
lilac  silk.  An  hour  or  two  later  William  Gill's 
chaise  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  Helen  came 
downstairs.  She  was  enveloped  in  a  large 
cloak  which  completely  hid  her  dress  from 
the  eyes  of  her  uncle  and  aunt.  Her  face 
was  flushed  ;  she  was  in  high  spirits.  William 


Helen  under  a  New  Aspect.        57 

Gill  —  a  prosperous  young  farmer  —  looked 
sheepishly  pleased  as  she  seated  herself  by  his 
side. 

Rhoda  sat  on  the  back  seat  with  Mrs.  Gill. 
It  was  a  still,  sultry  evening.  The  languor 
of  the  waning  summer  seemed  to  have  stolen 
upon  her  unawares,  and  the  good  woman 
found  her  a  dull  companion.  Mrs.  Gill  was 
proud  of  her  son,  proud  of  his  fine  horse,  a 
fiery  young  chestnut,  proud  of  the  chaise, 
which  had  been  newly  painted  and  varnished. 
But  these  subjects  had  little  interest  for  Miss 
Farren.  And  the  worthy  matron  became  con- 
vinced that  she  was  giving  herself  airs  on  the 
strength  of  her  annuity.  By  the  time  they  had 
reached  the  foot  of  Huntsdean  hill,  she  was 
as  silent  as  Rhoda  could  desire. 

The  church  clock  was  striking  seven  as 
they  turned  in  at  the  gates  of  Dykeley  Park! 
Groups  of  people  were  scattered  about  under 
the  trees.  The  hall  door  of  Dykeley  House 
stood  open,  and  the  sound  of  music  swept 
forth  into  the  evening  air.  Out  of  doors 


58  Nelly  Channell. 

there  was  the  crimson  of  sunset  staining  the 
skies,  reddening  the  faces  of  the  countryfolk, 
and  lighting  up  the  west  front  of  the  old 
mansion,  till  its  red  bricks  seemed  to  burn 
among  the  dark  ivy  and  overblown  white 
roses.  Quiet  pools,  lying  here  and  there  about 
the  park,  glittered  as  if  the  old  Cana  miracle 
had  been  wrought  upon  them,  and  their 
waters  were  changed  to  wine.  The  colour 
was  too  intense,  too  fiery.  It  made  Rhoda 
think  of  burning  cities,  or  of  the  glare  of 
beacons,  blazing  up  to  warn  the  land  that  the 
foe  had  crossed  the  border. 

Squire  Derrick's  old  banqueting  hall  had 
been  cleared  out  for  the  dancers.  The  squire 
himself,  a  bachelor  of  sixty,  received  his  guests 
as  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  might  have  done. 
Rhoda  saw  his  eyes  rest  on  beautiful  Helen 
in  the  lilac  silk,  and  his  glance  followed  her 
wonderingly  as  she  went  sweeping  away  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  great  room.  Other  looks 
followed  her  too. 

Nor  could  Rhoda  keep  her  own  gaze  from 


Helen  under  a  New  Aspect.        59 

dwelling  on  her  companion.  When  the  long 
cloak  had  been  laid  aside,  and  Helen  appeared 
in  the  lighted  room,  her  cousin  could  hardly 
restrain  an  exclamation.  There  were  jewels 
on  her  wrists  and  bosom,  jewels  on  the  white 
fingers  that  flashed  when  she  took  off  her 
gloves  to  display  them.  A  miserable  sense  of 
shame  and  confusion  overwhelmed  Miss  Farren. 
Here  was  Helen  bedizened  like  a  Begum,  and 
here  were  many  of  the  Huntsdean  folk  who 
knew  her  husband's  story !  The  air  seemed 
full  of  whispers.  Rhoda  grew  hot  beneath 
the  broad  stare  of  eyes.  Yet  few  glanced  at 
her  ;  the  brown  wren,  reluctantly  perched 
beside  the  glittering  peacock,  was  sheltered 
from  observation. 

The  musicians  struck  up  a  lively  tune,  and 
then  Rhoda  saw  that  there  were  several  gay 
young  officers  in  the  room.  They  had  come, 
by  the  squire's  invitation,  from  the  neighbour- 
ing garrison  town,  and  were  evidently  pre- 
pared to  enjoy  themselves. 

She   was   scarcely   surprised    to   see   two    or 


60  Nelly  ChannelL 

three  of  them  bearing  down  upon  Helen,  bent 
on  securing  her  for  a  partner.  She  heard 
their  entreaties,  and  Helen's  denials  —  very 
prettily  uttered.  But  at  that  moment  an  old 
friend  of  Farmer  Farren's  crossed  the  room, 
and  gave  Rhoda  a  hearty  greeting.  Then 
followed  a  score  of  questions  about  herself 
and  her  parents,  and  in  the  midst  of  them 
Rhoda  heard  Helen's  voice  saying — 

"  Only  one  dance,  Rhoda ;  you'll  forgive  me, 
I  know." 

Rhoda  started,  and  half  rose  from  her  seat. 
Such  a  distressed  and  angry  look  crossed  her 
face  that  the  old  farmer  was  astonished. 
Helen  had  gone  off  on  her  partner's  arm.  It 
was  too  late  to  call  her  back.  She  must  take 
it  as  quietly  as  she  could,  and  avoid  making 
a  scene. 

"  Who  is  that  lovely  young  woman  ?  Any 
relation  of  yours,  Miss  Farren  ?  "  asked  the  old 
man  by  her  side. 

"  My  cousin,"  Rhoda  answered. 

Several  persons  near  were  listening   for  her 


Helen  under  a  New  Aspect.        61 

reply.  Rhoda  hoped  that  her  questioner  would 
drop  the  subject,  but  he  did  not. 

"  Let  me  see ;  didn't  I  know  her  when  she 
was  a  child  in  your  father's  house  ? " 

"  Very  likely,"  Rhoda  said.  "  She  used  to 
live  with  us  when  she  was  a  little  girl." 

"  And  did  I  hear  that  she  had  married  ? " 
he  persisted. 

"  She  is  married,"  said  Rhoda,  desperately. 
"  Her  husband  is  in  Australia." 

Obtuse  as  he  was,  the  old  gentleman  could 
yet  perceive  that  he  had  touched  upon  an 
awkward  topic.  Poor  Rhoda  was  a  bad  actress. 
Her  face  always  betrayed  her  feelings.  She 
sat  bolt  upright  against  the  wall,  looking  so 
intensely  uncomfortable  that  her  companion 
quitted  her  in  dismay. 

There  she  remained  for  three  long  hours ; 
sometimes  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  lilac  silk 
among  the  dancers.  From  fragments  of  talk 
that  went  on  around  her,  she  learned  that 
Helen  was  the  centre  of  attention.  And  at  last, 
when  a  galop  was  over,  and  the  groups  parted 


62  Nelly  Channell. 

to  left  and  right,  she  caught  sight  of  her  cousin 
surrounded  by  the  officers. 

She  now  saw  Helen  under  a  new  aspect. 
Her  looks  and  gestures  were  those  of  a  prac- 
tised coquette,  who  had  spent  half  her  life  in 
ball-rooms.  People  were  looking  on — smiling, 
whispering,  wondering.  The  squire  himself  was 
evidently  amused  and  astonished.  Even  if  she 
had  been  less  beautiful,  Helen's  dress  and 
jewellery  would  have  attracted  general  notice. 
It  was,  perhaps,  the  most  miserable  evening 
that  Rhoda  had  ever  passed.  "Am  I  my 
brother's  keeper?"  was  the  question  that  she 
asked  herself  a  hundred  times.  Was  she  in- 
deed to  blame  for  suffering  Helen  to  come  to 
this  place  ?  The  music  and  dancing  and  flat- 
tering speeches  had  fired  Helen's  blood  like 
wine.  The  gaiety  that  would  have  been  in- 
nocuous to  many  was  poisonous  to  her. 

At  last  a  loud  gong  sounded  the  summons 
to  supper.  The  repast  was  spread  in  a  large 
tent  which  had  been  erected  in  the  park.  Out 
swept  the  crowd  into  the  balmy  August  night, 


Helen  under  a  New  Aspect.        63 

Helen  still  clinging  to  the  arm  of  her  last 
partner,  and  carefully  avoiding  a  glance  in  her 
cousin's  direction.  Rhoda  strove  in  vain  to  get 
nearer  to  her  ;  the  press  was  too  great.  But 
she  contrived  to  reach  William  Gill,  and  to  say 
to  him  earnestly — 

"  We  must  go  away  as  soon  as  supper  is  over, 
Mr.  Gill.  I  promised  father  that  we  would  come 
back  early."  The  moon  had  risen,  large  and 
red,  and  the  night  was  perfectly  still.  Chinese 
lanterns  illuminated  the  great  supper-tent  from 
end  to  end.  Flowers  and  evergreens,  mingled 
with  wheat  ears,  decorated  the  long  tables. 
The  light  fell  on  rows  of  flushed  and  smiling 
faces.  Rhoda,  pale  and  sad,  sat  down  on  the 
end  of  a  bench  close  to  the  tent  entrance. 

"I'm  'most  worn  out,"  said  Mrs.  Gill's  voice 
beside  her.  "  I'm  downright  glad  that  you're 
for  going  home  early,  Miss  Farren.  Old  women 
like  me  are  better  a-bed  than  a-junketing  at 
this  time  o'  night !  Mercy  on  us,  how  your 
cousin  has  been  a-going  on,  my  dear !  And 
brought  up  so  strict  too  !  " 


64  Nelly  ChannelL 

The  words  cut  Rhoda  like  a  knife.  There 
she  sat,  lonely  and  miserable,  amid  a  merry 
crowd.  The  golden  moonshine  flooded  the 
park,  and  the  sweet  air  kissed  her  face  as  she 
turned  it  wearily  towards  the  tent-entrance. 
Once  a  sudden  rush  of  perfume  came  in  and 
overwhelmed  her.  It  was  the  breath  of  the  fast 
fading  roses  that  hung  in  white  clusters  about 
the  squire's  windows,  and  shed  their  petals  on 
the  ground  below. 


VI. 

THE  MASTER  IS  COME,  AND  CALLETH 
FOR  THEE:' 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  THE  MASTER  IS  COME,   AND   CALLETII  FOR 
THEE." 

RHODA  seized  upon  her  cousin  as  she  was 
passing  out  of  the  tent.  She  was  resolved  that 
Helen  should  not  go  back  to  the  dancing-room. 
What  was  done  could  not  be  undone.  But  she 
would  take  her  away  before  the  crowd  had 
begun  to  disperse. 

"  Come,  Helen,"  she  said,  "  I  have  your  cloak 
and  hat ;  you  needn't  go  into  the  house  again. 
Mr.  Gill  will  get  the  chaise  ready  at  once." 

"  O  Rhoda,  the  fun  is  only  just  beginning," 
pleaded  Helen.  "And  I  have  promised  to 
dance " 

"  Then  you  must  break  the  promise.  It 
won't  be  the  first  that  you  have  broken  to- 
night," added  Rhoda,  sharply. 

She  wrapped  Helen  in  her  cloak,  and  tied  her 


68  Nelly  Channell. 


bonnet  strings  with  her  own  hands.  As  they 
stood  there,  in  the  strange  mingling  of  lamp- 
light and  moonlight,  she  could  see  that  the 
lovely  face  looked  half-frightened  and  half- 
mutinous.  In  an  instant  Rhoda  repented  of 
her  momentary  harshness ;  somehow  she  had 
never  loved  Helen  better  than  she  did  at  that 
instant 

"I'm  sorry  to  spoil  your  pleasure,  darling," 
she  whispered  ;  "  but  what  will  the  father  say 
if  we  are  late?  " 

Helen's  brow  cleared.  Without  a  word  she 
walked  straight  to  the  place  where  the  chaise 
was  standing,  and  climbed  up  into  her  seat. 
William  Gill,  assisted  by  one  of  the  squire's 
stable  helpers,  proceeded  to  harness  the  chest- 
nut horse,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  they  had 
driven  out  of  the  park. 

It  was  such  a  relief  to  Rhoda  to  be  going 
homewards,  that  for  some  moments  she  could 
think  of  nothing  else.  The  cool  night  air 
soothed  and  refreshed  her.  The  rattle  of  wheels 
and  the  quick  tramp  of  hoofs  were  the  only 


"  The  Master  is  come"  63 

sounds  that  broke  the  silence.  Cottages  by  the 
wayside  were  dark  and  still.  The  firs  that  bor- 
dered the  road  stood  up  rugged  and  black ;  not 
a  tree-top  rocked,  not  a  branch  rustled.  The 
level  highway  was  barred  with  deep  shadows 
here  and  there.  Overhead  there  was  a  soft, 
purple  sky,  and  the  moon  hung  like  a  globe  of 
gold  above  the  faintly  outlined  hills. 

As  they  drew  near  the  end  of  the  three-mile 
drive,  Rhoda's  troubled  thoughts  came  flocking 
back.  All  Huntsdean  and  Dykeley  would  be 
talking  of  Helen  Clarris  to-morrow.  Her  dress, 
her  jewels,  her  levity,  would  give  the  tongues  of 
the  gossips  plenty  of  work  for  months  to  come. 
The  Farrens  were  a  proud  family  in  their  way. 
They  were  over-sensitive — as  such  people  al- 
ways are — and  hated  to  be  talked  about. 
Rhoda  knew  that  the  village  chatter  could  not 
fail  to  reach  her  father's  ears,  and  she  knew,  too, 
that  it  would  vex  him  more  than  he  would  care 
to  say.  As  Mrs.  Gill  had  said,  Helen  had  been 
strictly  brought  up.  She  had  lived  under  her 
uncle's  roof  in  her  childhood,  and  had  gone  to 


70  Nelly  ChannelL 

school    with   her   cousin.      All    that    had    been 
done  for  Rhoda  had  been  also  done  for  her. 

And  then  the  jewels.     Little  as  Miss  Farre 
knew  of  the  worth  of  such  things,  she  had  fel 
sure    that    they   were    of    considerable    valu 
Moreover,  they  were  new  and  fashionable,  and 
could    not   be    mistaken    for   family  heirlooms. 
Had    Robert  Clarris   purchased    them    in    his 
doting  fondness  for  his  wife  ?     Were  they  love- 
gifts   made   soon   after  their  marriage  ?     Any- 
how, Helen  ought  not  to  retain  them.     It  was 
plainly  her  duty  to  dispose  of  them,  and  send  the 
proceeds  to  Mr.  Elton.     Rhoda  determined    to 
speak  to  her  about  this  matter  on  the  morrow. 

Just  as  she  had  formed  this  resolution,  they 
turned  out  of  the  highway  and  entered  the  lane 
leading  to  Huntsdean.  The  road  dipped  sud- 
denly ;  a  sharp  hill,  overshadowed  by  trees,  led 
into  the  village. 

"  Nearly  home,"  said  Mrs.  Gill,  rousing  her- 
self from  a  doze.  The  words  had  hardly  passed 
her  lips,  when  the  chestnut  horse  started  for- 
ward with  a  mad  bound.  It  might  have  been 


"  The  Master  is  come?  71 

that  William  Gill's  brain  was  confused  with  the 
squire's  strong  ale.  A  buckle  had  been  care- 
lessly fastened,  and  had  given  way.  The 
horse's  flanks  were  scourged  and  stung  by  the 
flapping  strap.  There  was  a  wild  plunge  into 
the  darkness  of  the  lane,  a  terrible  swaying 
from  side  to  side,  and  then  a  jerk  and  a  crash 
at  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

For  a  few  seconds  Rhoda  lay  half  stunned 
upon  the  wet  grass  and  bracken  by  the  way- 
side. She  rose  with  a  calmness  that  afterwards 
seemed  the  strangest  part  of  that  night's 
history.  Mrs.  Gill  was  sitting  on  the  sod 
staring  around  her  in  a  helpless  way.  The 
other  two,  William  and  Helen,  were  stretched 
motionless  upon  the  stony  road. 

Still  with  that  strange  composure  which  never 
lasts  long,  Rhoda  ran  to  the  nearest  cottage. 
Its  windows  were  closed,  and  all  was  silent ; 
but  she  beat  hard  upon  the  door  with  her 
clenched  hands.  A  voice  called  to  her  from 
within,  but  she  never  ceased  knocking  until  a 
labourer  came  forth. 


72  Nelly  Channell. 

"  Hoskins,"  she  said,  as  the  man  confronted 
her,  "  my  cousin  has  been  thrown  out  of  Farmer 
Gill's  chaise.  You  must  come  and  carry  her 
home." 

The  man  came  with  her  to  the  foot  of  the 
Hill,  and  lifted  Helen  in  his  strong  arms. 
Other  help  was  forthcoming.  The  labourer's 
wife  had  roused  her  sons,  and  Mrs.  Gill  had 
collected  her  scattered  senses. 

They  were  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
home,  but  the  distance  seemed  interminable 
to  Rhoda  as  she  sped  on  to  the  house.  The 
familiar  way  appeared  to  lengthen  as  she  ran ; 
and  when  at  last  her  hand  touched  the  latch 
of  the  garden  gate,  her  firmness  suddenly 
broke  down.  She  tottered  as  she  reached  the 
door,  and  then  fell  into  John's  arms,  crying 
out  that  Helen  was  coming. 

The  farmer  sat  in  his  large  arm-chair.  The 
Bible  lay  open  on  the  table  before  him,  for 
he  had  been  gathering  the  old  strength  and 
sweetness  from  its  pages.  He  had  not 
guessed  that  the  strength  would  so  soon  be 


"  The  Master  is  come."  73 

needed.  But  it  was  his  way  to  lay  up  stores 
for  days  of  sorrow,  and  there  was  a  look  of 
quiet  power  in  his  face  that  helped  those 
around  him. 

They  carried  Helen  upstairs,  and  laid  her 
on  her  bed.  The  lilac  silk  was  dusty  and 
blood-stained,  the  fragile  lace  soiled  and  torn. 
With  tender  hands  Rhoda  unclasped  her 
glittering  necklace  and  bracelets ;  the  rings, 
too,  slipped  easily  from  the  slight  fingers. 
When  those  gay  trinkets  were  out  of  sight, 
Rhoda's  heart  was  more  at  ease.  Helen  was 
their  own  Helen  without  them ;  the  jewels 
had  done  their  best  to  make  her  like  a 
stranger.  There  was  little  to  do  then  but  to 
wait  until  the  doctor  arrived. 

As  it  will  be  with  the  day  of  the  Lord,  so 
it  often  is  with  the  day  of  trouble.  It  comes 
"  as  a  snare."  Frequently,  like  the  stag  in  the 
fable,  we  are  looking  for  it  in  the  very  quarter 
from  which  it  never  proceeds.  It  steals  upon 
us  from  another  direction — suddenly,  swiftly, 
"as  a  thief  in  the  night." 


74  Nelly  Channell. 

But  the  children  of  the  kingdom  are  "  riot 
in  darkness,  that  that  day  should  overtake 
them  as  a  thief."  They  sleep,  but  their  hearts 
wake ;  and  there  is  light  in  their  dwellings. 
Let  the  angels  of  death  or  of  sorrow  come 
when  they  will,  they  are  ready  to  meet  them. 
To  the  watchful  and  sober  souls  the  Master's 
messengers  are  never  messengers  of  wrath. 
Ay,  though  they  come  with  dark  garments 
and  veiled  faces,  they  bring  some  token  of 
Him  who  sends  them.  The  garments  "smell 
of  myrrh,  aloes,  and  cassia ; "  the  glory  of 
celestial  love  shines  through  the  veil. 

When  Helen  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
round  upon  them  all,  they  knew  that  there 
was  death  in  her  face.  They  knew  it  even 
before  the  doctor  arrived,  and  told  them  the 
hard  truth.  She  might  linger  a  day  or  two 
perhaps,  just  long  enough  for  a  leave-taking, 
and  then  she  must  set  forth  on  her  lonely 
journey.  But  how  were  they  to  tell  her  that 
she  must  go  ? 

"  What    did    the    doctor    say  ? "   she    asked, 


"  The  Master  is  come"  75 

faintly,  after  a  long,  long  silence.  The  day 
was  breaking  then,  but  they  were  still  gathered 
round  her  bed — still  waiting  and  watching 
with  that  new,  calm  patience  that  is  born  of 
great  sorrow. 

"Nelly,"  said  the  farmer,  bending  his  head 
down  to  hers,  "  'The  Master  is  come,  and 
calleth  for  thee.'  The  call  is  sudden,  my  dear, 
very  sudden.  But  it's  the  Master's  voice  that 
speaks." 

First  there  was  a  startled,  distressed  look, 
but  it  passed  away  like  a  cloud.  The  brown 
eyes  were  full  of  eager  inquiry. 

"  Must  it  be  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  Ah,  I  see 
it  must  !  Oh,  I'm  not  ready — not  nearly 
ready.  There's  so  much  to  be  forgiven ;  if 
I  could  only  know  that  He  forgives  me, 
I  wouldn't  want  to  stay." 

"  Nelly ! "  answered  the  farmer  in  a  clearer 
tone,  "the  Lord  has  got  love  and  pardon  for 
all  those  who  want  it.  It's  only  from  those 
that  don't  want  it  that  He  turns  away.  His 
blood  has  washed  out  the  sins  of  that  great 


76  Nelly  Channell. 

multitude  whom  no  man  can  number,  and  it 
will  cleanse  you  too.  Do  you  think  He  ever 
expects  to  find  any  of  His  children  who  don't 
need  washing  ?  Ay,  the  darker  they  are  in 
their  own  eyes,  the  fairer  they  seem  in  His!" 

As  Rhoda  listened  to  her  father's  words, 
and  to  her  cousin's  low  replies,  she  began  to 
realize  that  poor,  weak  Helen  had  felt  herself 
to  be  a  sinner  for  many  a  day.  She  had  felt 
it,  and  had  tried  to  forget  it.  But  this  was 
not  the  first  time  that  she  had  heard  the 
Master's  call,  and  yearned  to  follow  Him.  Yet 
the  weakness  of  the  flesh  had  prevailed  again 
and  again,  and  her  feet  had  gone  on  stumbling 
on  the  dark  mountains.  They  would  never 
stumble  any  more.  The  great  King  had  come 
Himself  to  guide  them  over  the  golden  pave- 
ment to  the  mansion  prepared  in  His  Father's 
house. 

All  that  day  Rhoda's  mother  was  by  the 
bedside.  Rhoda  herself  went  to  and  fro,  now 
ministering  to  the  baby's  wants,  now  hanging 
over  her  cousin's  pillow.  Once  she  stayed  out 


"She  tarried  with  them  until  the  breaking  of  another  day." — Page  77. 


"  The  Master  is  come?  77 

of  the  room  for  nearly  half-an-hour,  and  on 
entering  it  again,  she  saw  her  mother  strangely 
agitated  Helen's  head  was  on  her  aunt's 
bosom,  and  her  pale  lips  were  moving.  But 
Rhoda  could  not  hear  what  she  said. 

She  tarried  with  them  until  the  breaking 
of  another  day.  The  sun  came  up.  Shadows 
of  jessamine  sprays  were  drawn  sharply  on  the 
white  blind  ;  a  glory  of  golden  light  fell  on 
the  chamber  wall.  Towards  that  light  the 
dying  face  was  turned.  To  Rhoda,  at  that 
moment,  came  a  sudden  impulse.  Clearly  and 
firmly  she  repeated  the  familiar  lines  that  she 
and  Helen  had  learnt  years  ago, — 

"The  wide  arms  of  Mercy  are  spread  to  enfold  thee, 
And  sinners  may  hope,  for  the  Sinless  has  died." 

For  answer,  there  was  a  quick,  bright  smile, 
and  then  the  half-breathed  word — 

"  Forgiven." 

Only  an  hour  later,  Rhoda  was  walking 
along  the  grassy  garden-path  with  Helen's 
child  in  her  arms.  Was  it  yesterday  that  they 


78  Nelly  Channell. 


were  children  playing  together?  Had  ten 
years  or  sixty  minutes  gone  by  since  she 
died  ?  If  she  had  come  suddenly  out  of  the 
old  summer-house  among  the  beeches — a  gay, 
smiling  girl — Rhoda  could  scarcely  have  won- 
dered. There  are  moments  in  life  when  we 
put  time  away  from  us  altogether. 

And  yet  one  had  to  come  back  to  the 
everyday  world  again — a  very  fair  world  on 
that  morning.  Newly-reaped  fields  lay  bare 
and  glistening  in  the  sun  ;  thistle-down  drifted 
about  in  the  languid  air,  and  the  baby  stretched 
out  her  hands  to  grasp  the  butterflies.  She 
looked  up,  wonderingly,  with  Helen's  brown 
eyes,  when  Rhoda  pressed  her  to  her  bosom 
and  wept 


VII. 

DISPOSING   OF  HELEN'S  JEWELS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
DISPOSING  OF  HELEN'S  JEWELS. 

A  MONTH  went  by.  The  household  fell  back 
into  its  old  ways.  The  little  child  laughed 
and  played,  and  grew  dearer  and  dearer  to 
them  all. 

Mrs.  Farren  had  taken  upon  herself  the 
task  of  looking  over  Helen's  things.  She 
performed  this  duty  without  any  aid  from 
Rhoda ;  and  not  one  word  did  she  say  about 
the  jewels.  The  farmer  had  written  to  Aus- 
tralia, breaking  the  sad  news  to  Robert  Clarris 
as  gently  as  he  could.  How  would  he  receive 
it  ?  Rhoda  wondered.  They  had  left  off  speak- 
ing of  him  in  her  hearing.  They  were  aware 
of  all  the  bitter  dislike  that  she  cherished,  but 
they  never  sought  to  soften  her  heart.  They 
were  content — as  the  wisest  people  are — to 

leave  most  things  to  time.     We  do  not  know 
81  G 


82  Nelly  Channell. 

how  often  we  wrong  a  friend  by  hotly  defend- 
ing him,  nor  how  we  help  an  enemy  by  run- 
ning him  down. 

Now  that  Helen  was  gone,  Rhoda  was 
harassed  by  a  new  fear.  She  dreaded  lest 
Robert  should  take  away  the  child. 

It  was  more  than  probable  that  he  would 
marry  again  one  day.  A  hard-natured,  sel-. 
fish  man — such  as  she  believed  him  to  be — ; 
would  need  a  wife  to  slave  for  him.  Then  he 
would  send  for  Rhoda's  ewe  lamb,  and  there 
would  be  an  end  to  her  dream  of  future 
happiness.  She  did  not  realize  that  God  sel- 
dom makes  us  happy  in  our  own  way.  Bless- 
ings, like  crosses,  nearly  always  come  from 
unexpected  quarters.  We  search  for  honey  in 
an  empty  hive,  and  find  it  at  last  in  the  carcase 
of  a  dead  lion. 

The  Gills,  mother  and  son,  were  little  the 
worse  for  that  night's  catastrophe.  Like  all 
tragedies,  Helen's  death  was  a  nine  days' 
wonder.  There  was  plenty  of  sympathy ; 
there  were  condolences  from  all  sides.  And 


Disposing  of  Helens  Jewels.        83 

then  the  excitement  died  out ;  the  small  topics 
of  daily  life  resumed  their  old  importance. 
And  so  the  time  went  on. 

At  the  end  of  October,  the  farmer  received 
a  reply  to  his  letter.  Rhoda  refrained  from 
asking  any  questions,  and  they  did  not  tell  her 
how  the  widower  had  borne  the  blow.  She 
saw  tears  in  her  mother's  eyes,  and  thought 
that  a  great  deal  of  love  and  pity  are  wasted 
in  the  world.  Long  afterwards,  her  opinion 
changed,  and  she  understood  that  money  is 
often  wasted — love  and  pity  never.  Thank 
God,  it  is  only  the  things  that  "  perish  in  the 
using "  which  we  ever  can  waste ! 

On  the  very  day  after  the  Australian  letter 
came,  the  black  mare  was  put  into  the  light 
cart.  The  farmer  dressed  himself  in  his  best 
clothes,  and  carefully  examined  the  harness. 
These  were  signs  that  he  was  going  to  drive 
to  the  town. 

"Maybe  it  would  do  you  no  harm  to  come, 
Rhoda,"  he  said,  suddenly.  "  Put  on  your 
bonnet,  and  bring  the  little  one." 


84  Nelly  Channell. 

Rhoda  ran  up  into  her  room,  and  dressed 
herself  in  haste.  Little  Nelly  crowed  with 
glee  when  her  small  black  pelisse  was  but- 
toned on.  She  was  quite  unconscious  of  the 
compassion  that  her  mourning  garments  ex- 
cited. And  even  when  she  was  fairly  seated 
in  the  cart,  her  shrill  cries  of  delight  brought 
a  smile  into  the  farmer's  grave  face. 

It  was  one  of  the  last,  peaceful  autumn 
days.  The  early  morning  sky  had  been 
covered  with  a  grey  curtain,  whose  golden 
fringes  swept  the  hills  from  east  to  west.  As 
the  sun  rose  higher,  the  clouds  were  lifted,  the 
bright  fringes  broadened,  and  there  was  light 
upon  all  the  land. 

Rhoda  and  her  father  did  not  talk  much. 
Her  instincts  told  her  that  he  was  disposed 
to  be  silent ;  and  there  was  a  great  deal  to 
occupy  eyes  and  mind.  The  bindweed  hung 
its  large  white  flowers  across  the  yellow  hedges. 
The  wild  honeysuckle,  in  its  second  bloom, 
was  like  an  old  friend  who  comes  back  to 
comfort  us  in  our  declining  fortunes.  They 


Disposing  of  Helen  s  Jewels.        85 

reached  at  length  the  brow  of  the  great  chalk 
hill  that  overlooks  the  harbour.  There  lay  the 
sea — a  waste  of  soft  blue-grey,  touched  with 
gleams  of  gold  and  dashes  of  silver.  There, 
too,  lay  the  Isle  of  Wight  in  the  tranquil  sun- 
shine. The  mare  trotted  on,  down  hill  all  the 
way,  till  they  entered  the  noisy  streets  of  the 
busy  seaport,  and  left  peace  and  poetry  behind. 
The  farmer  stopped  at  last  before  a  silver- 
smith's shop.  He  put  the  reins  into  Rhoda's 
hand,  took  a  little  wooden  box  from  under 
his  seat,  and  descended  from  the  cart  For  a 
few  seconds  his  daughter  was  utterly  bewil- 
dered. The  stock  of  family  plate  was  limited 
to  a  cream-jug  and  spoons.  And  even  if  they 
had  made  up  their  minds  to  part  with  those 
treasures,  the  proceeds  would  hardly  have  re- 
compensed them  for  the  sacrifice.  Yet  what 
could  be  the  contents  of  the  wooden  box  that 
her  father  had  carried  into  the  shop  ?  The 
truth  flashed  upon  Rhoda.  He  was  disposing 
of  Helen's  jewels.  He  had  obtained  her  hus- 
band's permission  to  sell  them. 


86  Nelly  Channed. 

He  came  out  again  with  a  sober  face.  The 
silversmith  came  too,  rubbing  his  hands  as  if 
he  were  not  ill  satisfied  with  his  bargain.  He 
wished  the  farmer  good  day,  and  the  mare 
jogged  steadily  back  to  Huntsdean. 

But  Rhoda  learnt,  long  afterwards,  that  the 
money  for  which  the  jewels  were  sold  did  not 
go  to  Mr.  Elton.  It  went  towards  the  main- 
tenance of  Helen's  child. 


VIII. 

THE  FARM  PURCHASED  BY  ONE  RALPH 
CHANNELL, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   FARM   PURCHASED   BY  ONE  RALPH 
CHANNELL. 

EIGHT  years  passed  away.  In  Huntsdean 
churchyard  the  grass  had  grown  over  Helen's 
grave,  covering  up  the  bare,  brown  earth,  as 
new  interests  cover  an  old  sorrow. 

Little  Nelly  had  never  realized  her  loss.  It 
contented  her  to  know  that  her  mother  had 
been  laid  to  rest  in  a  sweet  place,  and  would 
rise  again  some  day  when  the  Lord  called  her. 
She  always  hoped  that  Helen  might  rise  in 
the  spring,  and  find  the  primroses  blooming 
round  her  pretty  grave.  She  might  have 
fancied  that,  like  Keats,  her  mother  could 
"  feel  the  flowers  growing  over  her."  Chil- 
dren and  poets  often  have  the  same  fancies. 

November  had  come  again  ;  and  with  it 
came  a  new  anxiety. 


9O  Nelly  Channell. 

The  small  farm,  rented  by  Farmer  Farren, 
had  passed  into  new  hands.  Squire  Derrick 
was  dead,  and  "  another  king  arose,  who  knew 
not  Joseph."  The  heir  was  a  needy,  grasping 
man.  Old  tenants  were  nothing  to  him,  and 
he  was  in  want  of  ready  money. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  sell  the  little 
farm.  It  was  more  than  likely,  therefore,  that 
the  Farrens  would  be  turned  out  of  the  old 
nest.  For  the  young,  it  is  easy  to  build  new 
homes,  and  gather  new  associations  around 
them  ;  but  for  the  old,  it  is  well-nigh  im- 
possible. Their  very  lives  are  built  into  the 
ancient  walls.  When  they  leave  a  familiar 
dwelling,  they  long  to  go  straight  to  "  a 
house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 

John  was  now  bailiff  to  a  rich  landowner  in 
Sussex.  He  had  a  wife  and  child ;  but  he 
was  not  unmindful  of  other  ties.  "  Come  to 
me,"  he  wrote,  "  if  you  are  turned  out  of  the 
old  place."  But  the  parents  sighed  and  shook 
their  heads.  They  had  not  greatly  prospered 


The  Farm  Purchased.  91 

in  Huntsdean,  yet  no  other  spot  on  earth  could 
be  so  dear  to  them. 

"Whatever  the  Lord  means  me  to  do,  I'll 
strive  to  do  it  willingly,"  said  the  farmer, 
bravely.  "  Oftentimes  I'm  mighty  vexed  with 
myself  for  clinging  so  hard  to  these  old  bricks 
and  mortar,  and  those  few  fields  yonder.  If 
I  leave  them,  I  shan't  leave  my  Lord  behind 
me  ;  and  if  I  stay  with  them,  He'll  soon  be 
calling  me  away.  But  you  see,  an  old  man 
has  his  whims ;  and  I  wanted  to  step  out 
of  this  old  cottage  into  my  Father's  house." 

In  this  time  of  uncertainty,  a  new  duty 
suddenly  called  Rhoda  from  home.  Her 
father's  only  sister — a  childless  widow — lay 
dying  in  Norfolk,  and  sent  for  her  niece  to 
come  and  nurse  her. 

It  was  decided  that  she  must  go.  Her  aunt 
had  no  other  relatives,  and  could  not  be  left 
alone  in  her  need.  But  it  was  with  a  heavy 
heart  that  Rhoda  said  farewell  to  the  three 
whom  she  loved  best  on  earth,  and  set  out 
on  her  long,  solitary  journey. 


92  Nelly  Channell. 


It  was  a  keen,  clear  morning  when  she 
went  away.  A  brisk  wind  was  blowing ;  the 
brown  leaves  fled  before  it,  as  the  hosts  of 
tfie  Amorites  before  the  sword  of  Joshua.  In 
dire  confusion  they  hurried  along  over  soft 
turf  and  stony  ground.  It  was  a  day  on 
which  all  things  seemed  to  be  astir.  Crows 
were  cawing,  and  flying  from  tree  to  tree ; 
magpies  flashed  across  the  road ;  flocks  of 
small  birds  assembled  on  the  sear  hedges. 
And  far  off  could  be  heard  the  clamour  of 
foxhounds  and  shouts  of  the  huntsmen. 

Rhoda  wondered,  with  a  pang,  how  it 
would  be  when  she  came  back.  Do  we  ever 
leave  any  beloved  place  without  fearing  that 
a  change  may  fall  upon  it  in  our  absence  ? 
It  is  at  such  times  as  these  that  the  heart 
loves  to  rest  itself  upon  the  Immutable. 
"Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place 
from  all  generations."  "Thou  art  the  same, 
and  Thy  years  shall  not  fail." 

It  was  a  weary  sojourn  in  Norfolk.  The 
widow's  illness  was  long  and  trying.  But 


The  Farm  Purchased.  93 

God  has  a  way  of  making  hard  work  seem 
easy;  and  He  lightened  Rhoda's  labour  with 
good  news  from  home. 

Two  months  passed  by,  and  her  aunt  still 
hovered  between  life  and  death.  Mrs.  Farren's 
letters  had  not  given  any  definite  reason  for 
hope  ;  and  yet  hopefulness  pervaded  every  line, 
and  clung  to  every  sentence  like  a  sweet  per- 
fume. Rhoda  felt  its  influence  and  rejoiced. 
And  at  last,  when  January  came  to  an  end, 
the  mother  spoke  out  plainly. 

The  farm  was  purchased  by  one  Ralph 
Channell.  He  was  a  prosperous  man  who  had 
come  from  Australia,  and  had  been  settled  in 
England  about  a  year.  He  was  quite  alone 
in  the  world,  and  had  proposed  to  take  up  his 
abode  with  the  Farrens  in  the  old  cottage. 
The  farmer  was  to  manage  everything  as  usual. 
No  change  would  be  made  in  any  of  their 
household  ways.  Mr.  Channell  had  been 
acquainted  with  Robert  Clarris  in  Australia, 
and  it  was  through  Clarris  that  he  had  first 
heard  of  the  Farrens.  What  he  asked  of 


94  Nelly  Cfiannell. 

them  was  a  home.  They  might  have  the  old 
house  rent-free,  if  they  would  let  him  live  in 
it  with  them. 

Thus,  a  heavy  burden  was  lifted  from 
Rhoda's  heart.  Mrs.  Farren's  letter  was  a 
psalm  of  thanksgiving  from  beginning  to  end. 
"In  the  day  when  I  cried,  Thou  answeredst 
me,  and  strengthenedst  me  with  strength  in 
my  soul,"  she  wrote,  in  her  gladness.  And 
Rhoda's  spirit  caught  up  the  joyful  strain. 
Yet  she  once  found  herself  wishing  that  Mr 
Channell  had  not  been  one  of  Robert  Clarris's 
friends.  True,  Clarris  had  long  ago  restored 
the  three  hundred  pounds,  and  had  regularly 
sent  money  for  his  child's  support.  But  was 
not  the  old  taint  upon  him  still  ? 

Rhoda  could  never  get  rid  of  the  notion 
that  he  had  been  too  leniently  dealt  with. 
Hers  was  a  mind  which  always  clings  to  an 
idea.  Moreover,  her  life,  from  its  very  begin- 
ning, had  been  a  narrow  life.  She  had  never 
been  called  upon  to  battle  with  a  strong  tempt- 
ation. But,  like  all  whose  strength  has  not 


The  Farm  Purchased.  95 

been  tried,  she  believed  that  she  could  have 
stood  any  test.  It  is  easy  for  him  who  sits  in 
peace  to  cry  shame  on  the  soldier  who  de- 
serts his  post.  There  are  few  of  us  who  can- 
not be  heroes  in  imagination.  And  most  of  our 
harsh  judgments  come  from  a  narrow  experi- 
ence. 

We  can  only  learn  something  of  the  power 
of  Divine  Love  by  knowing  the  evil  against 
which  it  contends.  Those  who  want  to  see 
what  God's  grace  can  do  must  look  for  its 
light  in  dark  places. 

When  February  and  March  had  gone  by, 
Rhoda  found  herself  free  to  go  home.  She 
went  back  to  the  sweet  lights  and  shadows 
of  April ;  to  the  glitter  of  fresh  showers,  and 
the  scent  of  hyacinths  and  wall-flowers.  Her 
mother's  arms  were  opened  to  her.  Nelly 
clung  to  her  neck,  half-crying  for  joy.  Her 
father  and  Mr.  Channell  were  out  in  the 
meadows,  they  told  her ;  they  would  come 
indoors  for  tea.  It  was  Nelly  who  had  most 
to  say  about  the  stranger. 


96  Nelly  Channell. 

"  You  never  knew  anybody  so  kind,  Rhoda," 
she  said,  earnestly.  "  He  makes  us  all  happy, 
and  he's  taken  me  to  see  mother's  grave  every 
Sunday  while  you  were  away." 

Rhoda  was  standing  at  the  back-door  when 
she  saw  them  coming  from  the  fields.  Nelly, 
with  her  pinafore  full  of  kittens,  still  chattered 
by  her  side.  Just  in  front  of  the  door  was 
the  old  cherry-tree,  covered  with  silvery  blos- 
soms and  spangled  with  rain-drops.  It  looked 
like  a  bridal  bouquet  hung  with  diamonds. 
Men  were  sowing  barley  in  the  acres  beyond 
the  fence.  Rhoda  was  watching  the  blossoms 
and  the  sowers,  and  yet  she  saw  those  two 
figures. 

The  first  glance  told  her  that  Mr.  Channell 
was  a  strong  man.  In  his  younger  days  he 
might  have  been  almost  handsome,  but  he 
was  one  of  those  men  who  had  lost  youth 
early  in  life.  It  was  a  face  with  which  sorrow 
had  been  very  busy,  and  hard  work  had  put 
the  finishing  touches  to  the  lines  that  sorrow 
had  begun.  Rhoda  did  not  know  what  it  was 


The  Farm  Purchased.  97 

in  this  man  that  made  her  think  of  Luther. 
But  when  she  looked  at  him  she  saw  the  same 
kind  of  peace  that  the  reformer's  features  might 
have  worn.  It  may  be  that  there  is  a  family 
likeness  among  all  God's  Greathearts.  For 
all  those  who  have  fought  the  good  fight  must 
show  "  the  seal  of  the  living  God  "  on  their 
foreheads  as  well  as  the  scars  of  the  conflict. 
Even  our  dim  eyes  may  see  the  difference 
between  the  marks  that  are  got  in  the  devil's 
service  and  those  that  have  been  won  in  the 
battles  of  the  Lord. 

From  that  very  day  there  was  a  change  in 
Rhoda's  life.  Some  of  us,  in  looking  back  on 
our  lives,  can  remember  the  exact  spot  where 
the  old  straight  road  took  a  turn  at  last.  It 
had  run  on  so  long  in  the  same  even  line,  that 
we  thought  there  would  never  be  any  change 
at  all.  Other  roads  had  always  been  crooked — 
full  of  twists  and  ups  and  downs ;  ours  never 
varied.  But  at  last,  when  it  looked  straightest 
and  smoothest,  the  turn  came. 

Rhoda  began  to  think  that  the  world  was 

H 


98  Nelly  ChannelL 

widening,  as  we  all  do  when  an  expanding 
process  is  going  on  within  ourselves. 

First  she  found  out  that  the  old  cottage 
was  a  much  pleasanter  place  than  it  used  to 
be,  and  that  the  parents  seemed  growing 
younger  instead  of  older.  Mr.  Channell  dis- 
covered all  their  little  likings  and  dislikings 
and  carefully  studied  them.  Some  folks  think 
they  have  done  wonders  if  they  scatter  flowers 
in  a  friend's  path,  but  Ralph  Channell's  work 
was  the  quiet  removal  of  the  thorns.  Perhaps 
the  best  labourers  in  the  world  are  those  who 
have  striven  to  undo  evil  rather  than  to  do 
good,  but  they  are  not  those  who  have  had 
the  most  praise. 

He  had  brought  a  goodly  number  of  books 
to  Huntsdean,  but  Rhoda  learnt  more  from 
the  life-histories  .that  he  told  her  than  from 
the  printed  volumes.  They  helped  her  to  read 
the  books  by  a  new  light. 

In  his  way — and  it  was  a  very  unassuming 
way — he  had  been  doing  missionary  work  in 
Melbourne.  And  in  listening  to  him  Rhoda^ 


The  Farm  Purchased.  99 

first  understood  how  Christ's  love  follows  the 
sinner,  and  hunts  him  into  the  darkest  corners 
of  the  earth  rather  than  lose  him.  In  this 
universe,  where  wheat  and  tares  grow  together, 
and  angels  and  devils  strive  together,  mercy 
never  rests.  For  the  prince  of  darkness  is  not 
so  active  as  He  who  hath  said,  "  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world." 
If  the  devil  "goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion, 
seeking  those  whom  he  may  devour,"  the  Good 
Shepherd  is  seeking,  too,  to  save  them  that  are 
lost.  There  is  only  one  power  stronger  than 
hate,  and  that  is  love. 

In  this  strain  did  Mr.  Channell  talk  to 
Rhoda.  The  spring  passed  away,  summer  days 
came  and  went,  and  still  no  mention  had  ever 
been  made  by  either  of  them  of  Robert  Clarris. 
At  last,  however,  his  name  was  brought  up 
abruptly  by  Rhoda  herself. 


IX. 

THE   CONSCIOUSNESS  OF  BATTLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   CONSCIOUSNESS   OF   BATTLE. 

ON  a  Sunday  afternoon  these  two,  Ralph  and 
Rhoda,  had  strayed  out  into  the  old  orchard 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  summer  world 
was  just  then  in  all  its  glory.  The  meadows 
looked  as  if  a  flowery  robe  had  been  shaken 
out  over  them  ;  the  orchard  grass  was  full  of 
tall,  shiny  buttercups  and  large  field-daisies, 
resplendent  in  their  snowy  frills.  A  turquoise 
sky  smiled  down  through  the  leaf-laden  boughs 
above  their  heads ;  bees  were  murmuring  all 
around  them. 

"  Mr.  Channell,"  asked  Rhoda,  suddenly, 
"you  know  Nelly's  father,  don't  you?" 

He  stooped  and  gathered  one  of  the  large 
daisies.  For  a  moment  there  was  no  reply. 
The  bees  filled  up  the  pause  while  she  waited 
for  his  answer. 

103 


104  Nelly  Channell 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,"  "  I  know  him  well." 

"  Is  he  really  penitent  ?  "  she  inquired,  doubt- 
fully. "  Does  he  think  that  what  he  has  done 
has  blotted  out  the  past?  It's  easy  to  white- 
wash a  dirty  wall,  but  the  stains  are  under- 
neath the  whitewash  still." 

"There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the 
stain  which  is  only  whitewashed  over,  and 
that  which  Christ's  blood  has  blotted  out," 
replied  Mr.  Channell.  "  I  don't  believe  that 
Robert  Clarris  can  ever  forget  the  past,  or 
think  that  he  has  atoned  for  it.  But  he  knows 
that  the  Lord  has  put  away  his  sin." 

"How  does  he  know  it?"  Rhoda  de- 
manded. 

"Until  he  had  committed  that  great  crime," 
Ralph  went  on,  "he  knew  nothing  at  all  of 
the  love  of  Christ.  He  had  been  a  moral 
man,  satisfied  with  his  morality.  Then  came 
secret  sorrows — then  much  worldly  perplexity, 
followed  by  a  strong  temptation — and  he  fell. 
And  when  he  lay  grovelling  in  the  dust,  the 
Lord's  voice  travelled  to  him  along  the  ground. 


The  Consciousness  of  Battle.       105 

While  he  had  walked  erect,  he  had  never 
heard  it." 

"Wasn't  Mr.  Elton  over-merciful  to  him?" 
asked  Rhoda.  "  I  have  often  thought  so." 

A  sudden  light  seemed  to  kindle  in  Ralph's 
eyes. 

"There  are  many,"  he  said,  "who  pray 
Sunday  after  Sunday  that  the  Lord  will 
raise  up  them  that  fall,  and  yet  do  all  they 
can  to  keep  the  fallen  ones  down.  Mr.  Elton 
was  not  one  of  those.  He  thought  that  if  half 
the  blows  that  were  spent  upon  sinners  were 
bestowed  upon  Satan,  the  Evil  One  would 
indeed  be  beaten  down  under  our  feet.  God 
bless  him  !  He  saved  a  sinner  from  the  con- 
sequences of  one  dark  hour  ! " 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  This  time  it  was 
broken  by  little  Nelly,  who  came  bounding 
in  between  them.  Ralph  bent  down  and 
clasped  the  child  closely  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  my  darling,"  he  said,  as  he  held  her 
"may  the  Lord  make  you  one  of  His  hand- 
maidens !  May  He  send  you  forth  to  raise 


io6  Nelly  Channell. 

up  them  that  fall,  and  to  bind  up  the  broken 
in  heart !  " 

Perhaps  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  Nelly 
had  heard  this  prayer.  It  did  not  surprise 
her  as  it  did  Rhoda.  Miss  Farren  watched 
Ralph's  face  earnestly,  till  it  had  regained  its 
usual  look  of  peace. 

"Mr.  Channell,"  she  began,  yielding  to  a 
sudden  impulse,  "  I'm  sure  you  must  have 
suffered  a  great  deal.  Forgive  me  for  saying 
so  much,"  she  added,  "  but  I've  sometimes 
thought  that  you  have  the  look  of  a  victor." 

He  turned  towards  the  house,  holding 
Nelly's  hand  in  his. 

"  I  must  answer  you  in  another's  words," 
he  replied.  "  They  are  better  than  any  of 
mine.  'To  me  also  was  given,  if  not  vic- 
tory, yet  the  consciousness  of  battle,  and  the 
resolve  to  persevere  therein  while  life  or 
faculty  is  left.'" 

"  The  consciousness  of  battle,"  Rhoda  re- 
peated to  herself.  "  Perhaps  that  was  what 
St.  Paul  felt  when  he  found  a  law  in  his 


The  Consciousness  of  Battle.       107 

members  warring  against  the  law  in  his  mind. 
And  perhaps  it's  a  bad  thing  to  be  conscious 
of  no  warfare  at  all." 

And  then  she  began  to  wonder  if  she  were 
anything  like  Robert  Clarris  before  he  fell. 
Had  she  ever  really  heard  the  Lord's  voice  ? 
Were  not  her  ears  deafened  by  the  clamour 
of  self-conceit  ?  Alas,  it  goes  ill  with  us  when 
we  mistake  the  voice  of  self-congratulation 
for  the  voice  of  God ! 

But  there  came  a  time  when  Rhoda  reached 
the  very  bottom  of  the  Valley  of  Humilia- 
tion. She  grew  conscious  that  she,  a  strong, 
self-reliant  woman,  had  silently  given  a  love 
that  had  never  been  asked  of  her.  When  a 
man  takes  a  woman  by  the  hand,  and  lifts 
her  above  her  old  self,  it  is  ten  to  one  that 
she  falls  in  love  with  him. 

We  all  know  what  it  is  to  wonder  at  the 
change  that  love  makes  in  a  woman.  We 
have  marvelled  often  what  that  clever  man 
could  have  seen  in  this  commonplace  girl,  but 
we  admit  that  he  has  made  her  a  new 


:o8  Nelly  Channell. 


creature.  Perhaps,  like  the  great  sculptor,  he 
attacked  the  marble  block  with  Divine  fer- 
vour, believing  that  an  angel  was  imprisoned 
in  it.  And  his  instincts  were  not  wrong  after 
all.  The  shapeless  stone  was  chipped  away 
and  the  beautiful  form  revealed. 

But  Rhoda  had  no  reason  to  think  that 
Ralph  Channell  cared  for  her  more  than  for 
others.  In  every  respect  he  was  above  her. 
The  rector  (rectors  are  great  persons  in  coun- 
try villages)  had  found  out  that  Mr.  Channell 
was  a  thoughtful  and  cultivated  man.  The 
rector's  family  said  that  he  was  charming, 
and  they  wondered  why  he  shut  himself  up 
with  the  Farrens  in  their  dull  cottage. 
Nobody  ever  intimated  that  he  was  think- 
ing of  Rhoda.  All  the  country  people  had 
settled  that  she  was  to  be  an  old  maid. 
She  was  too  good  for  the  farmers,  and  not 
good  enough  for  the  squires'  sons.  And  for 
many  a  year  Rhoda  had  been  very  comfort- 
ably resigned  to  her  fate. 

Bit   by  bit,  however,  she  had  let  her  heart 


The  Consciousness  of  Battle.       109 

go,  and  she  awoke  one  day,  suddenly  and 
miserably,  to  the  knowledge  that  she  had 
parted  with  the  best  part  of  herself.  There 
is  no  need  to  tell  how  or  when  she  made 
the  discovery.  A  chance  word,  a  trivial  inci- 
dent, may  send  us  to  look  into  the  casket 
where  we  kept  our  treasure,  and  we  find  it 
empty. 


X 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  ONE  DARK  HOUR 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  ONE  DARK  HOUR. 

RHODA  tried  hard  to  conceal  her  loss.  Now 
that  the  treasure  was  gone,  she  double-locked 
the  casket.  No  one,  she  resolved,  should 
know  how  poor  she  was.  So  well  did  she 
play  her  part,  that  those  around  thought  her 
sterner  and  harder — that  was  all. 

Her  manner  to  Ralph  changed  visibly. 
She  began  to  avoid  his  company ;  their 
familiar  conversations  were  at  an  end.  Her 
whole  energy  was  now  devoted  to  one  endea- 
vour— to  keep  him  in  ignorance  of  that 
which  he  had  won.  If  she  were  poor,  he 
should  be  none  the  richer.  And  thus,  poor 
soul,  she  went  about  her  daily  duties,  putting 
on  a  hard  face  to  hide  her  weakness.  Even 
Nelly  found  that  Rhoda  was  not  so  pleasant 
as  she  used  to  be,  and  the  child  turned 

113  T 


H4  Nelly  ChannelL 


more  and  more  to  Mr.  Channell.  Was  he 
gaining  her  too? 

"I  am  losing  everything,  and  he  is  getting 
everything,"  said  Rhoda,  to  herself.  "  Per- 
haps this  is  God's  way  of  showing  me  how 
small  my  strength  is.  Haven't  I  lost  the 
very  thing  that  I  thought  myself  best  able 
to  keep?" 

It  will  always  be  so  with  those  whom  the 
Lord  teaches.  In  one  way  or  another  the 
humbling  process  must  be  gone  through. 
Sometimes  it  is  seen  of  all  men  ;  sometimes 
it  is  known  to  Him  alone.  But  as  certainly 
as  He  loves  us  "shall  the  nail  that  is  fastened 
in  the  sure  place  be  removed,  and  be  cut 
down  and  fall ;  and  the  burden  that  was 
upon  it  shall  be  cut  off,  for  the  Lord  hath 
spoken  it."  In  the  soul  that  He  makes  his 
own  He  will  not  leave  a  single  peg  to  hang 
self-confidence  upon.  And  when  our  cham- 
ber walls  are  bare,  and  the  tawdry  rags  of 
self-esteem  are  swept  out,  He  will  enter  and 
fill  the  room  with  sweetness. 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  1 1 5 

One  afternoon,  in  the  golden  harvest-time, 
Rhoda  and  Nelly  sauntered  up  into  the  wheat- 
fields.  The  reapers  were  resting  under  the 
hedges ;  in  the  largest  field  nearly  all  the  corn 
had  been  gathered  into  sheaves.  Rhoda  tired 
quickly  now  ;  for  when  the  heart  is  heavy,  the 
limbs  are  apt  to  be  weary.  She  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  the  field  and  dropped  down  to 
rest,  leaning  her  back  against  a  great  russet 
shock.  A  few  stray  ears  nodded  overhead, 
and  Nelly  nestled  under  their  shadow. 

She  had  always  been  an  impulsive  child, 
one  of  those  children  who  will  ask  any  ques- 
tion that  comes  into  their  heads,  and  a  good 
many  come.  She  had  no  notion  of  restraining 
her  curiosity.  If  anything  puzzled  her,  she 
must  always  have  it  explained. 

"Rhoda,"  she  said,  suddenly,  in  her  clear 
little  voice,  "  what  has  Mr.  Channell  done  to 
offend  you  ?  Don't  you  like  him  ?  " 

The  words  struck  Rhoda  like  a  sharp  un- 
expected blow.  Without  a  moment's  pause 
she  cried  out  harshly  and  bitterly — 


n6  Nelly  Channell. 

"  I  wish  he'd  never  come  here,  Nelly  ;  I 
wish  you  and  I  had  never  seen  him  ! " 

Nelly  was  so  startled  by  the  passionate  tone 
that  she  jumped  up  from  her  seat.  As  she 
moved,  somebody  on  the  other  side  of  the 
shock  moved  also.  It  was  Mr.  Channell. 
Rhoda  turned  her  head  in  time  to  see  him 
walking  away.  In  an  instant  she  realized  that 
he  had  heard  all,  but  she  dared  not  think  of 
the  construction  that  would  be  put  upon  her 
outburst.  Perhaps  she  had  mortally  offended 
her  father's  best  friend  ;  perhaps  he  would  go 
away  from  them  all  for  ever. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wretched  woman  I  am ! "  she 
groaned,  aloud.  And  then  she  saw  that  Nelly 
had  run  off  after  Ralph  Channell. 

She  rose  slowly,  and  wandered  back  again 
to  the  cottage.  The  doors  and  windows  were 
set  wide  open.  Her  mother  sat  peacefully, 
knitting  in  the  parlour,  but  Rhoda  went 
straight  upstairs  to  her  own  room.  Nobody 
could  do  her  any  good  just  then.  She  wanted 
to  be  alone  and  get  her  senses  together.  Her 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  1 1 7 

head  ached,  and  she  had  a  dazed,  helpless 
feeling  of  having  cut  herself  off  from  every- 
thing comforting.  So  she  sat  down  for  a  few 
minutes  by  the  bedside,  then  got  up,  and  fell 
suddenly  on  her  knees. 

In  her  prayer  she  did  not  get  much  beyond 
telling  God  that  she  was  miserable.  It  was 
rather  an  outpouring  of  sorrow  than  a  plea 
for  help.  But  it  was  her  first  heartfelt  con- 
fession of  utter  weakness,  and  perhaps  that 
was  the  best  way  of  asking  for  strength.  The 
stray  sheep  that  falls  helpless  at  the  Shepherd's 
feet  is  sure  to  be  folded  in  His  arms  and  carried 
in  His  bosom. 

She  could  not  go  down  and  sit  at  the  tea- 
table  as  usual,  and  no  one  came  to  disturb 
her  in  her  solitude.  But  at  last,  when  the 
shadows  were  lengthening  over  the  fields,  and 
the  distant  church-clock  struck  six,  she  heard 
a  footstep  on  the  stairs.  The  -door  opened 
softly,  and  her  mother's  face  looked  in. 

"  May  I  come  to  you,  Rhoda  ? "  she  asked, 
gently. 


n8  Nelly  Channell. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  Rhoda  answered.  "  I  know 
how  shocked  and  hurt  you  must  be,"  she 
added.  "But,  indeed,  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  O  Rhoda,"  said  Mrs.  Farren,  "  we've  all 
thought  you  seemed  stern  and  strange  lately, 
but  we  didn't  know  until  to-day  that  you  had 
found  out  our  secret.  He  says  that  it  has 
been  all  wrong  from  the  beginning  ;  he  thinks 
you  ought  to  have  heard  the  truth  at  once." 

"  The  truth,  mother  ?  "  echoed  Rhoda. 
"  What  is  it  that  you  mean  ? " 

"  He  says,  dear  Rhoda,  that  he  ought  to 
have  told  you  who  he  was,"  Mrs.  Farren 
replied.  "  He  sees  now  that  it  was  wrong  to 
come  here  under  a  new  name." 

"A  new  name!"  her  daughter  repeated. 
"  For  pity's  sake,  mother,  speak  plainly.  Who 
is  he,  if  he  is  not  Ralph  Channell?" 

"  We  all  thought  you  must  have  found  out," 
said  Mrs.  Farren,  in  a  perplexed  tone.  "He 
is  poor  Helen's  husband — Robert  Clarris." 

It  was  not  until  some  minutes  had  passed 
away  that  Rhoda  was  calm  enough  to  hear 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.    119 

her  mother's  story.  The  two  sat  hand  in 
hand,  nearer  to  each  other  in  heart  than  they 
had  ever  been  before.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Farren 
had  always  been  a  little  afraid  of  her  daughter ; 
but  now  that  she  had  got  a  glimpse  into 
Rhoda's  inner  self  the  reserve  vanished. 

"We  had  always  felt  sure  that  Robert  was 
no  practised  sinner,"  she  began  ;  "  but  we 
did  not  know  what  it  was  that  had  driven 
him  to  a  crime — we  only  guessed  something 
like  the  truth.  O  Rhoda,  it's  an  awful 
thing  when  vanity  gets  the  upper  hand  with 
a  woman  !  Poor  Helen  made  a  sad  con- 
fession to  me  when  she  lay  dying  in  this  very 
room.  It's  hard  to  speak  of  the  faults  of  the 
dead  ;  but  there's  justice  to  be  done  to  the 
living." 

"  Whatever  her  faults  may  have  been,  they 
were  no  worse  than  mine,"  Rhoda  said,  humbly  ; 
"and  she  has  done  with  sinning  now,  while 
I  shall  be  going  on — perhaps  for  years  longer." 

"  Helen  got  deeply  into  debt,"  Mrs.  Farren 
continued  ;  "  and  she  used,  I  am  afraid,  to  go 


i -i2o  Nelly  ChannelL 

to  balls  and  theatres  without  her  husband's 
knowledge.  He  was  sent  away  sometimes  on 
business  by  Mr.  Elton.  But  don't  think  her 
tworse  than  she  was,  Rhoda — she  loved  gaiety 
and  admiration  passionately,  but  she  wasn't 
a  bad  woman  at  heart — he  always  knew  and 
believed  that ;  yet  she  got  him  into  terrible 
difficulties,  poor  child  !  And  at  last,  when 
her  debts  had  amounted  to  three  hundred 
pounds,  she  flung  herself  at  his  feet  and  con- 
fessed the  truth." 

Both  the  women  were  crying.  It  was  indeed 
hard  to  expose  the  faults  and  follies  of  the 
dead.  They  felt  as  if  they  had  been  tearing 
the  soft  turf  and  sweet  flowers  from  Helen's 
grave  ;  and  yet  it  had  to  be  done. 

"  Robert  was  not  a  converted  man  at  that 
time,"  went  on  Mrs.  Farren.  "  The  blow 
knocked  him  down,  and  utterly  bewildered 
him.  He  saw  no  means  at  all  of  paying  the 
debts,  and  he  knew  they  must  be  paid  im- 
mediately. Helen  hadn't  confessed  till  her 
creditors  had  driven  her  to  extremities  ;  and 


7/ie  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  121 

he  went  into  the  city  in  a  state  of  despair, 
for  there  was  '  no  help  for  him  in  his  God.' 
Perhaps  he  would  have  asked  aid  from  his 
employer  if  Mr.  Elton  had  been  the  owner  of 
the  business.  But  old  Mrs.  Elton  was  a  close 
woman,  and  her  son  did  nothing  without  her 
consent." 

Rhoda  could  almost  guess  what  was  coming. 
She  could  see  now  that  man's  extremity  is 
often  the  devil's  opportunity.  If  a  soul  does 
not  seek  help  from  God,  the  prince  of  dark- 
ness steps  in. 

"On  that  very  morning,"  said  Mrs.  Farren, 
"he  found  a  note  from  Mr.  Elton  waiting  for 
him  in  the  office.  His  master  told  him  that 
he  had  been  suddenly  called  off  to  Ireland  to 
look  after  some  property  there.  He  should 
be  absent  six  weeks — perhaps  longer.  Clarris 
was  to  take  his  place  and  manage  things,  as 
he  always  did  while  Mr.  Elton  was  away. 
And  just  an  hour  or  two  later  a  sunburnt, 
sailor-like  man  came  in,  and  clapped  Robert 
on  the  shoulder.  Robert,  poor  fellow,  didn't 


122  Nelly  Channell. 

recollect  him  at  first ;  but  when  he  said  that 
he  was  Frank  Ridley,  and  that  he  had  come 
to  pay  a  debt  of  long  standing,  he  remem- 
bered all  about  him." 

"  Oh  !  mother,  why  did  he  come  just  then?" 
sighed  Rhoda. 

"  The  Lord  suffered  it  to  be  so,"  Mrs.  Farren 
answered.  "  Christ's  hour  was  not  yet  come. 
That  was  the  devil's  hour,  and  a  dark  hour 
it  was." 

She  went  on  with  the  story  in  her  own 
straightforward  way.  Frank  Ridley  and  Mr. 
Elton  had  been  schoolfellows  and  dear  friends. 
But  while  Elton  was  steady  and  painstaking 
even  in  boyhood,  Frank  was  a  never-do-well. 
One  chance  after  another  slipped  through  his 
fingers  ;  situations  were  got  and  lost.  At  last 
some  new  opening  offered  itself ;  but  money 
was  needed,  and  Frank  was  at  that  time 
almost  penniless.  He  came  to  Elton  in  his 
strait,  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  three  hundred 
pounds. 

To    everybody's    surprise,    Mrs.    Elton    lent 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  123 

him  the  sum.  She  had  a  liking  for  handsome 
young  Ridley,  and  opened  her  purse  with  a 
good  grace  for  his  sake.  But  Frank's  under- 
taking was,  as  usual,  a  dead  failure,  and  the 
money  was  hopelessly  lost.  Ridley  himself 
was  lost  too.  For  eight  years  he  was  neither 
seen  nor  heard  of;  and  then  he  turned  up 
again  in  Elton's  office  with  a  pocket-book 
stuffed  with  bank-notes. 

"  I've  found  out  my  vocation  at  last,"  he 
shouted;  in  his  hearty  tones.  "  I'm  captain 
of  a  trading  vessel,  and  I've  traded  on  my 
own  account  to  good  purpose.  Here's  the 
three  hundred,  and  I'm  downright  sorry  that 
I  must  be  off  again  without  seeing  your 
governor,  Clarris." 

Robert  received  the  money — all  in  notes — 
and  gave  a  receipt ;  and  then  the  sailor  went 
his  way.  After  that  the  enemy  came  in  like 
a  flood,  and  the  deep  waters  rushed  over 
Robert's  soul.  He  did  not  cry,  "  Lord,  save, 
or  I  perish ! "  Alas  !  he  thought  of  every- 
thing rather  than  of  Him  who  is  able  to  save 


1 24  Nelly  Channell. 

to  the  uttermost  Here  was  the  exact  sum 
that  was  needed.  Frank  Ridley  was  off  on 
his  voyages  again,  and  would  never,  perhaps, 
return.  Robert  had  only  to  put  the  notes  in 
his  pocket,  and  make  no  entry  in  the  ledger. 
Of  course  there  was  a  certain  risk  in  doing 
this ;  but  it  was  very  unlikely  that  anything 
would  be  found  out.  And  here  was  the  sum 
— the  very  sum  that  was  wanted — within  his 
grasp.  He  would  pay  it  all  back ;  he  would 
work  night  and  day  to  do  that.  He  caught 
at  that  honest  resolution,  and  clung  to  it  as 
a  man  clings  to  a  frail  spar  when  the  ship 
goes  to  pieces. 

This  was  Apollyon's  hour  of  triumph. 
Robert  went  out  and  paid  Helen's  bills  on 
that  very  night.  But  the  burden  that  he  had 
taken  up  was  far  heavier  than  that  which  he 
had  thrown  off.  It  was  on  a  Monday  morn- 
ing that  he  had  received  Ridley's  money  ; 
and  the  succeeding  days  dragged  on  as  if 
each  day  were  weighted  with  iron  fetters,  till 
Saturday  came.  Robert  wrote  to  his  master 


The  Sfory  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.    1 2  5 


daily,  entering  into  all  the  details  of  business 
as  minutely  as  usual.  Then  on  the  Sunday 
morning — that  last  Sunday  that  he  ever  spent 
with  Helen — he  went  upstairs  after  breakfast, 
and  laid  down  upon  his  bed.  The  sense  of 
sin  and  shame  was  upon  him  ;  he  would  not 
mock  God  by  going  to  church  and  looking 
like  a  respectable  man.  His  wife  did  not 
know  what  ailed  him.  He  had  told  her  that 
the  debts  were  paid — that  was  all. 

Monday  came  again,  the  anniversary  of  his 
sin.  And  there,  on  the  office-desk,  lay  a  letter 
addressed  to  himself  in  his  master's  hand- 
writing. It  had  been  written  on  Saturday, 
and  was  dated  from  Dublin. 

"I  find  I  am  at  liberty  to  come  home  at 
once,"  Mr.  Elton  wrote.  "  I  have  found  a 
friend  here  who  will  look  after  the  property 
for  me.  Strangely  enough,  I  ran  against 
Frank  Ridley  yesterday,  and  could  scarcely 
believe  my  own  eyes.  He  had  come  to  Dublin 
in  quest  of  an  old  sweetheart.  He  told  me 
that  he  had  called  at  the  office,  and  had  paid 


126  Nelly  ChannelL 

his  old  debt.  He  showed  me  your  receipt 
when  I  looked  incredulous.  I  am  rather  sur- 
prised that  you  did  not  mention  this  in  your 
letters." 

Robert  Clarris  put  on  his  hat  and  coat 
and  went  quietly  into  the  outer  office. 

"  Blake,"  he  said,  calling  the  eldest  of  the 
under  clerks,  "  I  am  not  well,  and  must  go 
home  at  once.  I  leave  the  keys  in  your 
charge,  for  I  know  you  may  be  trusted." 

Blake  —  an  honest  fellow  —  looked  into 
Clarris's  face,  and  saw  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

Then  followed  the  last  miserable  interview 
with  Helen,  and  the  hurried  preparations  for 
flight.  His  wife  entreated  that  she  might  go 
away  to  her  old  home,  under  her  uncle's  roof. 
She  had  brought  him  nothing  but  trouble, 
she  owned  piteously ;  and  he  would  get  on 
better  without  her.  Alas,  poor  Helen  !  a  sorry 
helpmeet  she  had  been  to  the  man  who  had 
loved  her  !  These  two  had  not  asked  the 
Lord  to  their  marriage-feast,  and  had  never 
drunk  of  the  wine  of  His  love.  And  so  they 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  127 

parted,  never  to  meet  again  till  they  should 
meet  at  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb. 

In  Melbourne  there  was  one  Ralph  Channell, 
who  had  been  the  friend  of  Robert's  father, 
and  the  miserable  man  found  him  out.  He 
told  Mr.  Channell  his  whole  story.  Nothing 
was  concealed.  The  sin,  in  all  its  hideousness, 
was  exposed  to  Ralph  Channell's  sight.  And 
yet  he  took  the  sinner  to  his  heart. 

But  he  tested  the  young  man  patiently. 
He  let  him  scrape  and  save  to  pay  back  the 
money  that  he  had  stolen  ;  he  would  not  give 
him  a  single  farthing.  Every  shilling  of  the 
restored  sum  was  fairly  earned  in  Mr.  Chan- 
nell's  service,  and  paid  out  of  a  small  salary. 
And  all  that  time  he  saw  that  a  mighty  work 
of  grace  was  going  on  in  Robert's  soul. 

When  Mr.  Channell  lay  dying,  a  lonely, 
childless  man,  he  called  Robert  to  his  side. 
"  All  my  property  is  yours,"  he  said ;  "  you 
are  my  sole  heir,  and  you  must  take  my 
name — ay,  and  you  must  make  it  loved  and 
honoured  in  the  old  country." 


J28  Nelly  ChannelL 


So  Robert  came  to  England,  full  of  yearn- 
ings for  the  child  whom  he  had  never  seen. 
From  John  Farren  he  learnt  that  Rhoda's 
heart  was  hardened  against  him.  And  yet, 
how  could  he  help  loving  her  for  the  love 
that  she  bare  to  Nelly  ?  He  knew  all  about 
Rhoda  from  her  mother's  letters.  And  he 
wanted,  more  than  he  ever  acknowledged,  to 
see  this  woman  who  could  be  so  hard  and 
yet  so  tender.  The  opportunity  came.  He 
bought  the  farm,  and  gave  it  to  Farmer  Farren  ; 
only  stipulating  that  it  should  go  to  Rhoda 
at  her  father's  death.  And  he  came  to  dwell 
amongst  the  Farrens  as  Ralph  Channell. 

This  was  all  that  the  mother  had  to  tell. 
Rhoda  got  up,  when  the  tale  was  ended,  and 
went  quietly  out  of  the  house. 

The  sun  had  just  gone  down  ;  but  there 
was  light  in  the  west,  where  rosy  cloud-islands 
floated  in  a  golden  sea.  And  there  was  a 
light  in  Rhoda's  face  that  gave  her  a  new 
charm. 

She  knew,   by   some    subtle   instinct,    where 


The  Story  of  the  One  Dark  Hour.  129 

she  should  find  Robert  Channell.  She  as- 
cended the  steep,  winding  lane,  that  led  to 
the  old  churchyard.  How  did  she  guess  that 
one  woman's  harshness  would  send  him  to 
the  grave  of  another  ?  How  is  it  that  women 
go  straight  to  a  conclusion  which  a  man  could 
only  reach  by  a  circuitous  route  ? 

He  neither  saw  nor  heard  her  coming. 
His  head  was  bent  over  that  flowery  mound, 
and  the  grass  deadened  the  sound  of  her  feet. 
She  had  been  very  brave  until  she  found 
herself  by  his  side.  And  then  all  her  strength 
and  courage  suddenly  fled.  She  had  no  words 
to  plead  for  forgiveness  ;  she  could  only  touch 
his  arm  with  her  trembling  hand,  and  call 
him  by  the  name  that  she  had  hated  all  these 
years, — 

"  Robert ! " 

There  was  very  little  said  just  then.  The 
last  glow  was  dying  out  of  the  skies,  and  the 
dews  were  falling  on  Helen's  grave.  But  the 
Lord  lifted  up  the  light  of  His  countenance 
upon  them,  and  gave  them  peace. 


XI. 

KELLY  CHAN  NELL. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

NELLY      CHANNELL. 

THE  little  village  seemed  to  lie  asleep  in  the 
August  sunshine.  From  the  upland  where  she 
stood  Nelly  could  see  the  columns  of  pale 
smoke  going  up  from  cottage  chimneys,  but 
nobody  was  astir  in  the  gardens.  It  was  noon. 
Scarcely  a  flake  of  cloud  relieved  the  intense 
blue  overhead  ;  not  a  breath  of  wind  fanned 
the  thick  leafage  in  the  copse  behind  her. 

Nelly  Channell  was  not  sorry  that  the  morn- 
ing was  over.  Like  most  people  who  have  a 
great  deal  of  time  on  their  hands,  she  was  often 
puzzled  about  the  disposal  of  it.  When  she 
had  diligently  practised  on  the  piano  indoors, 
and  had  paid  a  visit  to  the  little  step-brother 
and  sister  in  the  nursery,  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  done.  She  used  sometimes  to  say 
that  this  part  of  her  life  was  like  an  isthmus, 


134  Nelly  Channell. 

connecting  the  two  continents  of  schoolgirlhood 
and  womanhood. 

On  this  morning  she  had  carried  a  book  out 
of  doors,  and  had  read  it  from  beginning  to  end. 
It  was  a  b'ook  that  had  been  recommended  to 
her  by  Mrs.  Channell.  Nelly  had  a  great 
reverence  for  her  stepmother's  opinion  ;  but  the 
story  had  not  pleased  her  at  all.  It  was  directly 
opposed  to  all  her  notions  of  right  and  wrong. 
She  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  herself  that  it 
ought  never  to  have  been  written. 

Nelly  was  a  girl  who  generally  spoke  her 
mind  ; — a  little  bluntly  sometimes,  but  always 
with  that  natural  earnestness  which  makes  one 
forgive  the  bluntness.  As  the  distant  church 
clock  struck  twelve,  and  the  stable-clock  re- 
peated the  strokes,  she  turned  and  went  into 
the  house. 

It  was  a  large  handsome  house,  which  her 
father  had  built  soon  after  his  second  marriage, 
about  twelve  years  ago.  But  although  they 
had  coaxed  the  creepers  to  grow  over  the  red 
bricks,  and  wreathe  the  doors  and  windows, 


Nelly  Channell.  135 

Nelly  always  maintained  that  it  was  not  so 
charming  a  place  as  the  little  vine-covered 
cottage  where  she  was  born.  The  cottage  was 
still  standing  ;  she  could  see  it  from  her  father's 
hall-door.  And  she  had  only  to  cross  two 
fields  and  an  orchard  when  she  wanted  to  visit 
the  dear  old  man  and  woman  who  had  shel- 
tered her  in  her  childhood. 

On  the  threshold  of  the  house  stood  Mrs. 
Channell  with  a  light  basket  on  her  arm. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  cottage  to  see  mother," 
she  explained.  "  I  have  been  making  a  new 
cap  for  her, — look,  Nelly." 

She  lifted  the  basket-lid,  and  afforded  Nelly 
a  glimpse  of  soft  lace  and  lilac  ribbons. 

"Why  didn't  you  let  me  make  it,  mamma  ?" 
the  girl  asked.  "  I  think  you  ought  to  use 
these  idle  hands  of  mine,  if  you  want  to  keep 
them  out  of  mischief." 

"  I  gave  you  a  book  to  read  this  morning," 
Mrs.  Channell  replied. 

"Yes.  I  have  read  it,  and  I  don't  like  it," 
said  candid  Nelly,  stepping  back  to  lay  the 


136  Nelly  Channcll. 

volume  on  the  hall  table.  "  I  will  go  with 
you  to  the  cottage,  and  we  can  talk  it  over." 

Arm-in-arm  they  walked  through  the  sweet 
grass,  keeping  under  the  shadow  of  the  hedges 
and  trees.  Mrs.  Channell  waited  for  the  girl 
to  speak  again. 

"I  don't  like  the  book,"  Nelly  repeated, 
after  a  pause.  "  The  writer  seems  to  have 
strange  ideas.  The  hero — a  very  poor  hero 
— is  false  to  the  heroine.  After  getting  en- 
gaged to  her,  he  discovers  that  he  can  never 
love  her  as  he  loves  another  girl  ;  and  of  course 
she  releases  him  from  the  engagement  when 
she  finds  out  the  truth.  But  instead  of  re- 
presenting him  as  the  worthless  fellow  that 
he  was,  the  author  persists  in  showing  us  that 
he  became  a  good  husband  and  father.  He 
begins  his  career  by  an  act  of  treachery ;  and 
yet  he  prospers,  and  is  wonderfully  happy  with 
the  wife  of  his  choice  !  It  is  too  bad." 

"  Lewis  Moore  was  not  a  treacherous  man," 
said  Mrs.  Channell,  quietly.  "  He  made  a  great 
and  terrible  mistake.  But  sometimes  it  is  not 


Nelly  Channell.  137 

easy  to  distinguish  between  a  blunder  and  a 
crime.  The  heroine — Alice — had  grace  given 
her  to  make  that  distinction.  She  saved  him 
and  herself  from  the  effects  of  the  blunder  by 
setting  him  free.  She  bade  him  go  and  marry 
Margaret,  because  she  saw  that  Margaret  was 
the  only  woman  who  could  make  him  happy." 

"  He  didn't  deserve  to  be  happy ! "  cried 
Nelly.  "  He  ought  to  have  been  sure  of  him- 
self before  he  proposed  to  Alice.  If  I  had 
been  in  Alice's  place  I  would  have  let  him 
depart,  but  not  with  a  blessing !  She  took  it 
far  too  tamely.  I  would  have  let  him  see  that 
I  de'spised  him." 

Mrs.  Channell  thought  within  herself  that 
the  young  often  believe  themselves  a  thousand 
times  harder-hearted  than  they  are.  Those 
who  feel  the  bitterest  wrath  when  they  think 
of  an  injury  that  has  never  come  to  them  are 
the  most  patient  and  merciful  when  they 
actually  meet  it  face  to  face.  But  she  did 
not  say  this  to  Nelly. 

The  book  was  talked  of  no  more  that  day ; 


138  Nelly  Channell 

and  for  many  a  day  afterwards  it  stood  ne- 
glected on  Mrs.  Channell's  shelves.  Nelly  had 
forgotten  it  after  a  night's  sleep,  and  the  next 
morning's  post  brought  her  a  surprise. 

When  she  entered  the  breakfast-room  her 
father  was  already  seated  at  the  table  looking 
over  his  letters.  He  held  up  one  addressed, 
in  a  legal-looking  hand,  to  Miss  Ellen  Channell. 

"  Who  is  your  new  correspondent,  Nelly  ? " 
he  asked.  "This  is  something  different  from 
the  young-ladyish  epistles  you  are  in  the  habit 
of  receiving,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  the  writing,"  she  said,  open- 
ing it  carelessly.  But  in  the  next  minute  she 
laid  it  hastily  before  him. 

"Read  it,  father,"  she  cried.  "Old  Mr. 
Myrtle  is  dead,  and  has  left  me  three  thou- 
sand pounds !  You  remember  how  he  made 
a  pet  of  me  in  my  school-days  ? " 

Mr.  Channell  read  the  letter  in  silence  ;  and 
then  he  looked  up  quickly  into  his  daughter's 
face,  and  put  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  I  hope  no  one  is  defrauded  by  this  legacy," 


Nelly  Channell.  139 

he  said,  gravely.  "  You  will  have  quite  enough 
without  it,  Nelly.  Had  Mr.  Myrtle  any  re- 
lations ?  " 

"  He  used  to  say  that  he  was  quite  alone 
in  the  world,"  she  answered.  "  His  house  was 
next  to  our  school,  and  the  gardens  joined  ; 
that  was  how  I  came  to  see  so  much  of  him. 
No  one  ever  went  to  stay  with  him,  and  he 
seldom  had  even  a  caller." 

"I  wish  he  had  left  the  money  to  a  poorer 
girl,"  remarked  Mr.  Channell.  "Well,  Nelly, 
you  will  now  have  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
a  year  to  do  as  you  like  with.  I  hope  you'll 
spend  it  wisely,  my  dear." 

It  was  generally  known  throughout  the 
county  that  Nelly  was  the  daughter  of  a  rich 
man.  She  was  very  pretty  too,  although  not 
so  beautiful  as  her  mother  had  been  ;  and  at 
nineteen  she  was  not  without  would-be  suitors 
and  admirers.  But  not  one  of  these  was  a  man 
after  Robert  Channell's  own  heart.  They 
were  hunting  and  sporting  country  gentlemen, 
who  talked  of  dogs  and  horses  all  day  long. 


140  Nelly  Channell. 

He  wanted  a  man  of  another  stamp  for  Nelly. 
He  did  not  care  about  long  pedigrees,  nor  did 
he  hanker  after  ancestral  lands.  He  desired 
for  his  child  a  husband  who  would  guide  a 
young  wife  as  bravely  up  the  hill  of  Sacrifice 
as  over  the  plain  called  Ease. 

It  might  have  been  that  Robert  Channell 
thought  too  much  of  what  the  husband  should 
be  to  the  wife,  and  too  little  of  what  the  wife 
is  to  the  husband.  There  are  moments  in  the 
life  of  the  strongest  men  when  only  the  touch 
of  a  woman's  hand  has  kept  them  from  turning 
into  a  wrong  road.  But  it  is  not  easy  for  a 
father,  anxious  for  the  safety  of  his  girl's 
future,  to  think  of  anything  beyond  her  re- 
quirements. Nelly  was  a  prize  ;  and  Mr. 
Channell  could  but  daily  pray  that  she  might 
not  be  won  by  one  who  was  unworthy  of  her. 


XII. 

MORGAN  FOSTER,  THE  NEW  CURATE 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MORGAN   FOSTER,   THE   NEW  CURATE. 

IN  the  golden  harvest  time,  just  after  they 
had  celebrated  Nelly's  nineteenth  birthday, 
a  new  face  appeared  in  Huntsdean,  and  a 
new  influence  began  to  work  among  the 
villagers.  The  rector,  who  had  grown  old 
and  feeble,  was  at  last  induced  to  secure  the 
services  of  a  curate.  And  Robert  Channell, 
having  been  a  good  friend  to  the  people  for 
many  a  day,  felt  almost  disposed  to  look 
jealously  upon  the  stranger. 

But  before  a  month  had  passed  by,  Mr. 
Channell  and  the  curate  had  found  out  that 
they  were  of  one  mind.  The  new-comer  did 
not  want  to  upset  any  of  the  old  plans,  but 
he  showed  himself  capable  of  improving  them. 
He  was  no  shallow  boy,  inflated  with  vast 
notions  of  his  own  self-importance,  but  a 


144  Nelly  ChannelL 

thoughtful,  active  man,  -whose  wisdom  and 
experience  were  far  beyond  his  years.  And 
Robert  liked  Morgan  Foster  all  the  better  be- 
cause he  was  the  son  of  poor  parents,  and  had 
worked  hard  all  his  days,  first  as  a  grammar- 
school  boy,  and  then  as  a  sizar  at  Cambridge. 

Nelly  liked  his  sermons,  which  were  never 
above  her  comprehension  ;  and  yet  she  liked 
him  none  the  less,  perhaps,  because  her  in- 
stincts told  her  that  he  could  have  soared 
higher  if  he  had  chosen.  She  fell  into  the 
habit  of  comparing  him  with  all  the  men  she 
had  ever  known,  and  found  that  he  always 
gained  by  the  process. 

Even  in  person  this  son  of  the  people  could 
hold  his  own  against  the  descendants  of  the 
old  county  families.  He  was  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  man ;  and  Nelly,  whose  stature 
was  above  middle  height,  secretly  took  a 
pleasure  in  feeling  that  she  must  look  up  to 
him.  They  were  seen  walking  side  by  side 
along  the  Huntsdean  lanes,  and  folks  began 
to  say  that  they  were  a  fine  couple. 


Morgan  Foster,  the  New  Curate.    145 

Those  calm  autumn  days  were  very  sweet 
days  to  Nelly  Channell.  The  summer  lingered 
long ;  no  wild  winds  suddenly  stripped  the 
trees,  and  so  the  woods  kept  their  leafiness, 
and  stood,  in  all  their  gorgeous  apparel,  under 
the  pale  blue  skies.  Nelly  thought  it  must  be 
the  peace  of  this  slow  decay  and  tranquil  sun- 
shine that  made  her  life  so  happy  at  this  time. 
She  did  not  own  to  herself  that  every  bit  of 
the  old  scenery  had  become  dearer  because 
Morgan  Foster  was  learning  to  love  it  too. 
Her  father  and  mother  discovered  the  secret 
long  before  she  had  found  it  out ;  and  they 
smiled  over  it  together,  not  ill-pleased. 

She  had  more  than  one  offer  just  at  this 
period.  The  neighbouring  country  houses 
were  full  of  men  who  had  come  to  Huntsdean 
for  the  shooting.  They  admired  Nelly  riding 
by  her  father's  side,  and  looking  vigorous  and 
blooming  in  her  habit  and  hat.  They  met  her 
now  and  then  at  a  dinner-party,  and  straight- 
way fell  in  love  with  her  chestnut  hair  and 
brown  eyes,  and  were  not  unmindful  of  the 

L 


146  Nelly  Channel!. 

handsome  dowry  that  would  go  with  these 
charms.  She  was  wont  to  say,  long  after- 
wards, that  her  unconscious  attachment  to 
another  was  a  safeguard  of  God's  providing. 
Many  a  woman  speaks  the  fatal  Yes,  because 
her  heart  furnishes  her  with  no  reason  for 
saying  No. 

Robert  Channell  encouraged  the  curate  to 
come  often  to  his  house ;  but  no  one  hinted 
that  he  thought  of  him  as  a  possible  son-in- 
law.  It  was  too  absurd  to  suppose  that  he 
would  give  his  Nelly  to  a  man  who  had  only 
a  hundred-and-fifty  a  year,  and  was  encum- 
bered with  an  old  father  and  mother,  living  in 
obscurity.  Some  of  the  disappointed  suitors 
remarked  that  Channell  was  a  fool  to  have 
the  parson  hanging  about  the  place  ; — there 
was  no  counting  on  the  whims  of  a  spoiled 
beauty,  who  might  take  it  into  her  head  to 
fling  herself  away  on  a  curate.  But  this  notion 
was  not  generally  entertained,  and  the  in- 
timacy increased  without  exciting  much  notice. 

Christmas  had  come  and  gone.     It  was  the 


Morgan  Foster,  the  New  Curate.   147 

last  day  of  the  old  year ;  Nelly,  sitting  alone 
by  the  drawing-room  fire,  was  seriously  taking 
herself  to  task,  and  asking  her  own  heart  why 
the  world  was  so  very  desolate  that  day  ?  True, 
the  ground  was  covered  with  snow  ;  but  the 
afternoon  sky  was  bright  with  winter  sunshine. 
The  brown  woodlands  took  rich  tinges  from 
the  golden  rays  that  slanted  over  them,  and 
scarlet  berries  glistened  against  the  garden 
wall.  Nelly  had  wrapped  a  shawl  round  her 
shoulders,  and  had  laid  the  blame  of  her  low 
spirits  on  a  cold. 

"  But  the  cold  is  not  to  blame,"  owned  the 
girl  to  herself.  "  When  one  has  a  friend — 
such  a  friend  as  Mr.  Foster — one  does  not 
like  him  to  stay  away  from  the  house  for  a 
week  ;  and  one  cannot  bear  to  hear  that  he 
is  always  at  the  rectory  when  Miss  White  is 
there !  And  yet  it  ought  not  to  matter  to 
me!" 

It  mattered  so  much  that  the  tears  in  Nelly's 
brown  eyes  began  to  run  down  her  cheeks. 
At  that  very  moment  the  drawing-room  door 


148  Nelly  Channell. 

was  thrown  open,  and  the  page  announced 
Mr.  Foster. 

The  curate  advanced  a  few  paces,  and 
stopped  in  sudden  dismay.  There  was  some- 
thing so  pathetic  in  Nelly's  pale,  tearful  face, 
that  he  was  stricken  speechless  for  a  moment. 
And  then  he  recovered  himself,  and  began  to 
make  anxious  inquiries  which  she  scarcely 
knew  how  to  answer. 

"  Nothing  has  happened,  Mr.  Foster,"  she 
sobbed.  "  I  am  only  crying  because  I  am  in 
low  spirits." 

"  Shall  I  go  away  now,  and  call  to-morrow  ? " 
asked  the  bewildered  young  man  in  his  em- 
barrassment. 

"  No,"  said  Nelly,  suddenly  looking  up 
through  her  tears ;  "  I  shall  be  a  great  deal 
worse  if  you  leave  me  to  myself !  " 

Her  face  told  him  more  than  her  words.  In 
a  moment  the  truth  flashed  upon  him,  and 
covered  him  with  confusion.  A  vainer  man, 
or  one  less  occupied  in  earnest  work,  would 
have  seen  it  far  sooner.  Morgan  Foster  took 


Morgan  Foster,  the  New  Citrate.   149 

a  chair  by  her  .side,  and  felt  his  heart  throb- 
bing as  it  had  seldom  throbbed  before.  There 
was  but  one  thing  to  be  done,  and  he  was 
going  to  do  it. 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  what  he  said. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  a  very  impassioned  de- 
claration ;  but  it  made  a  happy  woman  of 
Nelly.  And  only  a  few  minutes  later  Mr. 
Channell  and  his  wife  returned  from  a  wintry 
walk,  and  found  the  two  young  people  to- 
gether. There  were  no  concealments  ;  Morgan 
was  too  honourable,  and  Nelly  too  simple- 
hearted,  to  make  a  secret  of  what  had  taken 
place.  It  was  all  talked  over  quietly,  but 
with  a  good  deal  of  restrained  feeling ;  and, 
then,  having  declined  an  invitation  to  dinner, 
the  curate  went  his  way. 

He  scarcely  knew  himself  in  the  character 
of  an  engaged  man.  He  had  been  working 
so  hard  all  his  life  that  marriage  had  been  a 
very  distant  prospect  to  him.  While  there 
were  the  dear  old  parents  to  be  helped,  how 
could  he  think  of  taking  a  wife  ?  And  now, 


150  Nelly  Chctnnell. 

here  was  a  rich  girl  willing  to  marry  him  ; 
and  here  was  her  father  actually  consenting 
to  the  match  with  evident  satisfaction !  But 
Nelly  was  something  better  than  an  heiress ; 
she  was  a  very  sweet  woman  ;  such  a  woman 
as  any  man  would  have  heen  proud  to  win. 

So  Morgan  Foster,  as  he  walked  back  to 
his  lodging  over  the  frozen  snow,  began  to 
wonder  at  the  good  gifts  that  Heaven  had 
showered  upon  him.  It  was  a  strange  fact 
that  he  was  more  inclined  to  wonder  than  to 
rejoice, 


XIII. 

WHAT  A  LITTLE  POEM  REVEALED 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT  A  LITTLE   POEM   REVEALED. 

LOVERS,  like  sinners,  are  nearly  always  found 
out ;  and  in  a  very  short  time  everybody  knew 
that  Nelly  Channell  was  engaged.  It  is  not 
worth  while  to  record  all  the  remarks  that  this 
affair  drew  forth.  They  were  comments  of  the 
usual  kind  ;  the  curate  was  called  a  schemer, 
and  the  father  was  said  to  have  cruelly  neg- 
lected the  interests  of  his  child.  But  as  none 
of  these  observations  reached  the  ears  of  those 
whom  they  chiefly  concerned,  nobody  was  any 
the  worse  for  them. 

Meanwhile,  Morgan  took  his  good  fortune  in 
a  very  tranquil  way.  He  saw  Nelly  nearly 
every  day,  and  she  did  most  of  the  talking  that 
went  on  between  them.  Her  conversation,  like 
herself,  was  always  simple  and  bright;  it  did 
not  weary  the  listener,  and  yet  it  sometimes  set 

'53 


154  Nelly  Channell. 

him  wondering  at  the  ease  with  which  she 
opened  her  heart,  and  let  out  its  inmost 
thoughts.  He  was  conscious  that  he  had  never 
let  her  get  beyond  the  vestibule  of  his  inner 
self ;  but  he  would  fain  have  had  it  otherwise. 
It  pained  him,  even  while  it  comforted  him,  to 
see  that  she  was  quite  unaware  of  his  involun- 
tary reserve.  Had  she  known  that  he  kept  any 
locked-up  chambers,  she  would  have  striven  to 
find  the  keys,  and  would  most  likely  have 
succeeded.  But  she  did  not  know  it.  She 
possessed  no  instinct  keen  enough  to  tell  her 
that  she  might  live  with  this  man  for  years 
without  once  getting  close  to  his  soul. 

"  Read  this,  Nelly,"  he  said,  one  February 
afternoon.  He  had  called  to  take  her  out 
walking,  and  they  were  standing  together  at 
the  drawing-room  window.  All  the  snow  was 
gone,  and  in  its  stead  there  were  clusters  of 
snowdrops  scattered  over  the  brown  mould. 
Here  and  there  was  a  group  of  the  golden-eyed 
polyanthus  ;  a  little  yellow-hammer,  perched  on 
the  garden-wall,  piped  its  small,  sweet  song. 


What  a  Little  Poem  Revealed.     155 

There  was  sunlight  out  of  doors,  and  Nelly, 
looking  bright  and  picturesque  in  her  velvet 
and  sable,  was  impatient  to  leave  the  house. 

Morgan  had  taken  a  copy  of  the  Monthly 
Guest  from  his  pocket  and  was  pointing  to  a 
little  poem  on  one  of  its  pages. 

"  I  can  read  it  when  we  have  had  our  walk," 
Nelly  answered.  Then  catching  a  slight  shade 
of  disappointment  on  his  face,  she  gave  her 
whole  attention  to  the  verses  at  once.  * 

"  How  pretty  ! "  she  said,  having  conscien- 
tiously travelled  through  the  thirty  lines. 
"  How  strange  it  seems  that  some  people 
should  have  the  power  of  putting  their  ideas 
into  rhyme !  The  writer  has  a  nice  name, — Eve 
Hazleburn." 

"Perhaps  it  is  merely  a  nom-de-plume" 
replied  Morgan,  returning  the  journal  to  his 
pocket. 

Nelly  thought  within  herself  that  she  had 
never  found  her  lover  a  pleasanter  companion 
than  he  was  that  day.  He  amused  her  with 
little  stories  of  his  college  life,  and  even  went 


156  Nelly  ChannelL 

back  to  his  grammar-school  days  in  search  of 
incidents.  It  was  a  delightful  walk ;  twilight 
was  creeping  on  when  they  found  themselves 
at  the  house-door  again,  but  Morgan  came  no 
farther  than  the  threshold. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  he  said  ;  "  I  cannot  dine 
with  you  to-night  ;  I  must  go  home  and  write 
letters.  Good-night,  Nelly  dear." 

He  went  his  way  through  the  leafless  lanes, 
past*  the  cottages  and  gardens,  to  the  old 
sexton's  ivy-covered  dwelling.  Then  he  lifted 
the  latch  and  went  straight  to  the  little  parlour 
that  had  been  given  up  to  his  use.  It  was  a 
very  small  room,  so  low  that  the  beam  across 
the  ceiling  was  blackened  and  blistered  by  the 
heat  from  the  curate's  reading  lamp.  Six  rush- 
bottomed  chairs  stood  with  their  backs  against 
the  wall,  and  a  carpet-covered  hassock  was  the 
sole  pretension  to  luxury  that  the  apartment 
contained.  But  a  cheerful  fire  was  blazing  in 
the  grate,  and  on  a  little  red  tray  stood  a 
homely  black  teapot. 

"  I  saw  you  a-comin'  through    the    lane,  sir, 


What  a  Little  Poem  Revealed.    157 

and  I've  boiled  an  egg  for  you,"  said  his  good 
landlady,  bustling  in.  "It's  bitter  cold  still. 
My  good  man  hopes  you'll  keep  your  fire  up." 

She  went  back  to  her  own  quarters  with  a 
troubled  look  on  her  kindly  old  face.  Some- 
how, her  lodger  did  not  seem  quite  so  bright 
as  he  ought  to  have  been  after  taking  a  walk 
with  his  sweetheart.  She  thought  they  must 
have  had  a  lovers'  quarrel ;  and,  woman-like, 
was  disposed  to  lay  the  blame  thereof  on  her 
own  sex. 

"All  girls  is  fond  of  worritin'  men;  high  or 
low,  rich  or  poor,  they're  all  alike,"  she  said, 
to  her  husband.  "  They  don't  like  going  on 
too  peaceable.  Nothin'  pleases  'em  so  well  as 
a  bit  of  a  tiff  now  and  then.  But  if  Miss 
Channell  don't  know  when  she's  well  off,  she's 
a  foolish  body ; — women  are  a'most  as  bad  as 
the  children  of  Israel,  a-quarrelling  with  their 
blessings  !  " 

While  the  sexton's  wife  was  misjudging  poor 
unconscious  Nelly,  the  curate  sat  lingering  over 
his  tea-cup.  He  was  thoroughly  realizing,  for 


158  Nelly  Ckannell. 

the  first  time,  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in 
asking  Miss  Channell  to  be  his  wife.  It  was  a 
little  thing  that  had  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
blunder, — merely  her  way  of  reading  the  little 
poem  in  the  Monthly  Guest.  He  had  been 
always  vaguely  hoping  that  something  would 
bring  them  nearer  together,  and  make  it 
possible  for  him  to  give  all  that  he  ought  to 
give ;  and  he  had  thought  that  the  poem 
would  do  it.  The  verses  seemed  to  have 
proceeded  straight  from  some  human  heart, 
whose  feelings  and  aspirations  were  identical 
with  his  own.  They  expressed  the  same  sense 
of  failure  and  hope  which  every  earnest  worker 
for  God  must  feel.  They  described  the  peace 
which  always  grows  out  of  hearty  effort,  even 
if  that  effort  be  not  a  success. 

Just  one  word  or  look  of  comprehension 
would  have  led  him  on  to  speak  out  of  his  in- 
terior self.  But  poor  Nelly  saw  nothing  in  the 
poem  beyond  its  rhymes.  She  was  like  one 
who  misses  the  diamond  in  gazing  at  its  setting. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said,  half  aloud,  "that  I 


What  a  Little  Poem  Revealed.    159 

can  hide  my  sense  of  disappointment  from  her ! 
She  shall  never  know  that  I  want  anything  but 
her  sweetness  and  goodness,  poor  child  !  What 
a  happy  man  I  ought  to  be,  and  yet  what  an 
ungrateful  wretch  I  seem  in  my  own  eyes ! " 

He  sat  looking  sadly  into  the  red  hollow  of 
the  neglected  fire  and  sighed  heavily. 

"  I  am  like  old  Bunyan's  pilgrims,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  I  remember  that  they  came  to  a 
place  where  they  saw  a  way  put  itself  into  their 
way,  and  seemed  withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the 
way  which  they  should  go.  And  now  I  fear 
that  I  have  gone  out  of  my  right  path  without 
knowing  it.  Well,  so  long  as  the  penalty  falls 
upon  me  only,  I  can  bear  it !  " 

But  his  spirit  was  still  disquieted  when  he 
went  to  his  little  chamber  that  night.  He  lay 
awake  for  hours  thinking  of  Nelly,  and  of  the 
future  which  lay  before  them  both. 

Next  morning  came  a  letter,  in  his  father's 
handwriting,  which  was  full  of  sad  tidings.  His 
mother  was  dangerously  ill ; — could  he  not 
come  to  her  at  once  ? 


160  Nelly  Channell. 

Morgan  went  straightway  to  the  rectory,  and 
laid  his  case  before  the  rector.  The  old  man 
had  his  son,  a  young  deacon,  staying  in  his 
house,  and  readily  consented  to  spare  his  curate. 
Then  there  was  a  letter  to  Nelly  to  be  written, 
explaining  the  cause  of  his  sudden  departure. 
Before  noon  the  train  was  bearing  him  far  away 
from  the  vales  and  woods  of  Huntsdean, 
straight  to  the  great  world  of  London.  And 
from  Euston  Square  he  travelled  to  the  ancient 
Warwickshire  city  where  his  parents  had  made 
their  home. 


XIV. 

EVE  HAZLEBURN,  POET  AND  FRIEND. 


M 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

EVE   HAZLEBURN,    POET  AND   FRIEND. 

A  VERY  humble  home  it  was ;  but  his  love 
had  stinted  self  to  obtain  comforts  for  them. 
The  light  of  the  February  day  was  fading  when 
he  entered  the  little  house,  and  found  his  father 
eagerly  watching  for  him. 

"  You  are  a  good  son, — a  good  son,"  said  the 
old  man,  in  a  broken  voice.  "  She  is  no  worse  ; 
and  Miss  Hazleburn  is  with  her." 

Hazleburn !  The  name  had  a  familiar 
sound  ;  but  Morgan  was  too  weary  and  agi- 
tated to  remember  where  he  had  heard  it 
before.  He  took  his  way  at  once  to  his 
mother's  chamber. 

As  he  went  in,  a  small,  slight  figure  rose 
from  a  chair  by  the  bedside,  and  quietly  glided 
away.  He  scarcely  looked  at  it  in  the  gather- 
ing dusk  ;  moreover  he  had  no  thoughts,  just 
163 


164  Nelly  Channell. 

then,  for  anybody  but  the  mother  who  lay  there 
yearning  for  a  sight  of  him. 

His  coming  seemed  to  do  Mrs.  Foster  good, 
and  give  her  a  new  hold  upon  life.  It  was  a 
low  nervous  fever  that  had  seized  upon  her, 
taking  away  her  strength  by  slow  degrees,  until 
she  had  grown  almost  as  helpless  as  an  infant. 
But  God  had  sent  her  a  friend  in  Eve  Hazle- 
burn.  And  before  he  slept  that  night,  Morgan 
had  heard  from  his  father's  lips  the  story  of 
Miss  Hazleburn's  unselfish  kindness. 

Eve  was  one  of  those  friendless  beings  who 
are  thrown  entirely  on  their  own  resources,  and 
often  get  on  better  than  the  more  favoured 
children  of  fortune.  She  had  an  easy  post  as 
governess  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Gold,  a  rich 
Warwickshire  merchant ; —  too  easy,  as  she 
sometimes  said.  For  the  little  Golds  had 
holiday  two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  were 
not  on  any  account  to  be  burdened  with  long 
study  hours.  The  house  was  in  a  perpetual 
bustle  ;  visitors  constantly  coming  and  going. 
But  if  her  employers  were  unjust  to  themselves, 


-Eve  Hazleburn,  Poet  and  Friend,  165 

they  were  far  from  ungenerous  to  Eve.  They 
would  fain  have  had  her  share  in  all  their  feast- 
ings  and  merry-makings,  and  laughed  and  won- 
dered at  her  liking  for  retirement  and  peace. 

There  had  been  sickness  in  their  household. 
Soon  after  Christmas  the  whole  family  had 
gone  away  to  a  sheltered  watering-place,  leav- 
ing Miss  Hazleburn  in  charge  of  the  house,  and 
of  the  two  servants  who  remained  in  it. 

She  had  not  made  many  friends  in  the  city  of 

C .      Her  Sundays  were  her  own,  and  her 

services  in  the  Sunday-school  had  won  grati- 
tude and  approval  from  the  vicar  of  the  parish. 
She  went  occasionally,  but  not  often,  to  the 
vicarage. 

The  acquaintance  between  Morgan's  parents 
and  herself  was  nearly  a  year  old.  Their  quiet 
street  ran  along  at  the  back  of  the  merchant's 
great  house,  and  Eve  had  watched  the  pair 
sometimes  from  her  chamber  window.  Then 
there  was  a  chance  meeting,  a  slight  service 
rendered,  and  the  governess  became  their 
friend  and  frequent  visitor. 


1 66  Nelly  Channell. 

The  absence  of  the  Golds  left  her  at  liberty 
to  nurse  Mrs.  Foster  in  her  illness.  The 
servants,  being  sober  and  trustworthy,  required 
little  watching,  and  Eve's  time  was  her  own. 
None  ever  knew  what  it  cost  her  to  give  up  all 
her  leisure  to  the  sick  woman  ;  none  guessed 
that  a  cherished  plan  was  quietly  laid  aside  for 
Mrs.  Foster's  sake.  The  manuscript  which  Eve 
had  hoped  to  complete  in  these  holidays  of 
hers  was  put  by.  An  inner  voice  told  her  that 
God  meant  her  to  use  her  leisure  in  another 
way  ;  and  Eve's  life  was  so  still,  so  free  from 
turmoil  and  passion,  that  she  could  always  hear 
the  voices  that  spoke  to  her  soul. 

Days  went  and  came.  The  old  rector  of 
Huntsdean  wrote  kindly  to  his  curate,  bidding 
him  stay  in  Warwickshire  as  long  as  his  mother 
needed  him.  Nelly  wrote  too ;  such  simple 
loving  letters  that  every  word  went  like  a  stab 
to  Morgan's  heart.  She  also  begged  him  not 
to  hasten  his  return  for  her  sake.  It  was  good 
for  her,  her  father  told  her,  to  have  this  slight 
dash  of  bitterness  in  a  cup  that  had  been 


Eve  Hazleburn,  Poet  and  Friend.  167 

over-sweet.  And  poor  Nelly  made  so  great  a 
show  of  heroism  over  this  little  trial  of  hers, 
that  those  of  her  own  household  smiled. 

Meanwhile  Eve  and  Morgan  met  every  day  ; 
and  he  talked  to  her  about  her  poem,  which 
was  the  only  production  of  hers  that  had  as 
yet  found  its  way  into  print.  The  poem  was 
the  starting-point  from  whence  they  travelled 
on  into  each  other's  experiences.  Ah,  how 
easily  and  quickly  people  glide  into  familiar 
intercourse  when  there  is  a  spiritual  kinship 
between  them  !  Poor  Morgan's  heart  opened 
to  Eve  as  naturally  as  a  flower  uncloses  to  the 
sun.  Yet  he  never  suspected  that  this  was  the 
beginning  of  love. 

The  curate  had  not  told  his  parents  of  his 
engagement.  He  had  been  morbidly  afraid 
that  it  would  put  a  sense  of  distance  between 
the  old  people  and  himself.  Therefore  he 
had  said  nothing  about  it  in  his  letters,  but 
had  waited  till  he  should  see  them  face  to 
face.  But  now  that  the  time  had  come,  he 
feared  to  make  the  disclosure.  His  mother 


1 68  Nelly  Channell- 

vvas  in  no  condition  to  bear  any  startling 
news.  And  as  to  Miss  Hazleburn  — of  what 
consequence  could  his  affairs  be  to  her  ?  So 
the  intimacy  went  on.  He  was  too  blind  to 
see  the  injustice  that  he  was  doing  Nelly  and 
Eve  herself. 

"  We  are  really  not  very  new  friends,"  he 
said  to  the  governess  one  day.  "  I  knew  you 
through  your  poem.  We  met  in  the  spirit 
before  we  met  in  the  flesh." 

"Nobody  need  be  solitary  nowadays,"  an- 
swered Eve,  brightly.  "  I  have  many  such 
spiritual  friends,  whom  I  shall  probably  never 
see  with  my  bodily  eyes.  Don't  you  think 
that  one  of  the  joys  of  eternity  will  be  in 
finding  out  what  we  have  done  for  each  other 
unconsciously  ?  I  am  often  unspeakably  grate- 
ful for  the  printed  words  that  have  helped  me 
on." 

"  Do  you  find  many  companions  in  Mr. 
Gold's  house  ? "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  You  know  what 
it  is  to  like  people,  and  yet  have  no  affinity 


Eve  Hazleburn,   Poet  and  Friend.  169 

with  them.  The  Golds'  life  is  a  perpetual 
pleasure-hunt.  Parents  and  children  join  in 
the  chase  from  morning  till  night  ;  there  is 
little  rest  or  stillness  in  the  house.  I  should 
be  scarcely  sorry  to  leave  it." 

"Are  you  thinking  of  leaving  it?"  Morgan 
inquired. 

."  Not  yet.  Indeed,  I  have  no  other  home," 
she  answered.  "  I  had  a  hope,  last  year,  that 
one  might  be  provided  for  me ;  but  that  is 
over  now." 

They  were  sitting  together  in  the  Fosters' 
little  parlour  while  this  talk  went  on.  It  was 
Sunday  afternoon ;  Mrs.  Foster,  now  steadily 
making  progress  towards  recovery,  was  asleep 
upstairs,  and  her  husband  had  ventured  out 
to  church.  The  sun  was  getting  low  ;  a  yellow 
light  came  stealing  over  the  roofs  of  the  oppo- 
site houses,  and  shone  full  upon  Eve's  face. 
Her  last  words  had  been  spoken  in  a  sad 
tone  ;  her  eyes  looked  dreamily  out  into  the 
narrow  street. 

She  was  very  far   from    realizing    the  inter- 


170  Nelly  Channell. 

pretation  that  Morgan  had  put  upon  her 
remark.  Nor  did  she  dream  of  the  sudden 
turmoil  that  was  working  within  him,  as  he 
sat  watching  her  face. 

She  was  not  a  pretty  woman.  She  had  the 
charms  that  belong  to  symmetry  of  form,  and 
grace  of  manner  and  movement.  But  few  of 
those  who  were  struck  at  once  by  Nelly  Chan- 
nell's  beauty  would  have  noticed  Eve.  They 
would  have  failed  to  see  the  noble  shape  of 
that  small  head,  and  the  play  of  light  and 
shade  on  the  careworn  young  face.  Yet  as 
Morgan  sat  watching  her,  he  was  stung  by  the 
sharpness  of  jealous  agony.  Had  some  man 
wooed  this  girl,  and  been  an  accepted  lover  ? 

He  could  not  endure  the  idea  that  those 
chance  words  of  hers  had  conjured  up.  The 
grand  passion  of  his  life  was  revealed  to  him 
in  a  moment.  He  knew  what  he  felt  towards 
Eve,  and  knew,  too,  that  this  was  what  he 
oueht  to  have  felt  towards  another.  This  was 

o 

love.  It  was  but  a  poor  counterfeit  thereof 
that  he  had  given  to  Nelly. 


Eve  ffazleburn,  Poet  and  Friend.  171 

"Some  people  think  nothing  of  breaking  a 
promise,"  she  continued,  still  looking  out  into 
the  street.  "  Years  ago,  when  I  was  a  child, 
and  my  father  was  a  prosperous  man,  his  friend 
Mr.  Myrtle  came  to  him  in  sore  need  of  money. 

» 

My  father  lent  him  three  thousand  pounds. 
The  sum  was  lent  without  security,  and  it  was 
never  repaid." 

Morgan  breathed  more  freely ;  but  he 
thought  of  Nelly's  legacy. 

"  When  my  father  felt  himself  to  be  dying," 
Eve  went  on,  "he  wrote  to  Mr.  Myrtle,  re- 
minding him  once  more  of  the  debt.  It  was 
for  my  sake  that  he  did  this,  knowing  that  I 
should  be  left  quite  friendless,  and  almost 
penniless.  And  Mr.  Myrtle  promised  to  leave 
me  three  thousand  pounds  in  his  will.  He 
died  last  year,  Mr.  Foster,  but  there  was  no 
legacy  for  me." 

Morgan's  words  of  sympathy  sounded  flat 
and  commonplace.  He  was  too  much  over- 
come with  shame  to  be  conscious  of  what  lie 
was  saying.  It  was  almost  a  relief  when  his 


172  Nelly  Channell. 

old  father  returned  from  church  and  broke  up 
the  tete-d-tete. 

When  Mrs.  Foster  was  well  enough  to  move 
from  her  bed  to  a  couch,  the  curate  bethought 

him   of  returning  to   Huntsdean.     He  did  not 

« 

dare  to  think  much  of  all  that  awaited  him 
there.  He  had  lived  a  lifetime  in  the  space 
of  a  few  weeks,  and  the  village  and  its  associa- 
tions looked  unreal  and  far  away.  At  this 
time  shame  was  his  dominant  feeling.  He 
forgot  to  pity  himself  for  the  blunder  that  he 
had  made — he  thought  only  of  his  involuntary 
treachery. 

He  did  not  dream  of  making  any  confession 
to  Nelly  ;  she  should  be  no  sufferer  through 
this  dreadful  mistake  of  his.  And  he  wrote 
her  as  lover-like  a  letter  as  he  could  frame, 
telling  her  that  he  was  coming  home  in  a 
few  days. 


XV. 

A   CONFESSION    OVERHEARD. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A  CONFESSION   OVERHEARD. 

IT  was  the  afternoon  of  Morgan's  last  day 
in  Warwickshire.  He  sat  by  his  mother's 
couch,  holding  her  thin  hand  in  his,  and  wish- 
ing, with  all  his  heart,  that  she  were  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  who  had  any  claim  upon 
him.  She  looked  at  htm  with  a  long  earnest 
look ;  once  or  twice  her  lips  opened,  but  some 
moments  went  by  before  she  spoke. 

They  were  alone.  Mr.  Foster  had  pattered 
off  to  the  railway  station,  to  seek  for  infor- 
mation about  the  train  by  which  Morgan  was 
to  travel.  As  he  sat  there,  with  the  dear 
old  woman  who  had  shared  all  his  early  joys 
and  sorrows,  he  could  not  help  longing  to  tell 
her  of  his  new  trouble.  But  he  knew  not  how 
to  begin.  And  then  her  gentle  voice  broke 
the  silence. 

175 


176  Nelly  Channell. 

"  Morgan,"  she  said,  "  maybe  I  am  going  to 
do  a  foolish  thing.  I  never  was  a  match- 
maker, for  I've  always  thought  that  God  alone 
ought  to  bring  people  together.  But  when 
I  see  two  who  seem  to  be  made  for  each  other, 
and  one  of  them  so  near  to  me,  how  can  I 
help  saying  a  word  ?  " 

"Speak  on,  mother,"  he  answered,  drawing 
a  long  breath.  He  knew  what  was  coming. 
Well,  at  any  rate  it  would  give  him  the  oppor- 
tunity of  unburdening  his  heart 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  engaged  to  Eve 
Hazleburn,"  she  continued,  gaining  courage. 
"  She  is  as  good  as  a  daughter  to  me ;  but 
that  isn't  the  reason  that  I  want  her  for  my 
son's  wife.  I  want  her,  because  there's  a  sort 
of  likeness  between  you  that  makes  me  sure 
you  ought  to  be  made  one.  And  I've  seen 
your  eyes  follow  her,  Morgan,  as  if  you  thought 
so  too." 

"  It  cannot  be,  mother,"  said  the  curate, 
almost  passionately.  "  It  cannot  be,  and  yet 
I  know  it  ought  to  be !  I  am  already  engaged 


A  Confession  Overheard.          177 

to  another  woman  ;  but  I  love  Eve  Hazleburn 
as  I  shall  never  love  again  !  " 

"  God  help  us  all ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Foster, 
suddenly  pressing  his  hand  to  enjoin  silence. 
It  was  too  late.  His  voice  had  been  raised 
above  its  usual  tone ;  and  there  stood  Eve  at 
the  open  door. 

He  did  not  care — he  was  almost  glad  that 
she  knew  all.  There  had  come  upon  him  the 
recklessness  that  often  arises  out  of  hopeless- 
ness. If  he  must  wear  his  chain,  she  should 
know  what  a  heavy  weight  it  was  ! 

"Come  in,  Miss  Hazleburn,"  he  said,  rising 
excitedly ;  "  I  am  not  sorry  that  you  have 
overheard  me.  Perhaps  you  will  pity  me  a 
little.  Surely  you  can  spare  a  grain  of  com- 
passion for  the  poor  fool  who  has  spoiled  his 
own  life !  I  think  you  will,  for  you  are  a 
good  woman.  Some  women  would  glory  in 
a  conquest  of.  this  sort,  but  you  are  not  of 
that  number.  Ah,  I  am  talking  nonsense,  I 
suppose." 

Eve  went  straight  up  to  him  and  laid  her 

N 


178  Nelly  Channell. 

hand  upon  his  arm.  She  could  not  pretend 
to  have  heard  nothing,  and  she  would  not  have 
told  a  lie  if  she  could.  Her  light  touch  stopped 
him  in  his  impatient  walk  up  and  down  the 
little  room. 

"  Think  of  your  mother,  Mr.  Foster,"  she 
said,  softly.  "  She  is  not  strong  enough  to  bear 
a  scene." 

He  sat  down  again  by  the  couch,  and  buried 
his  face  in  the  cushion  on  which  Mrs.  Foster's 
head  rested.  It  was  a  boyish  action  ;  but  Eve 
knew  that  the  best  men  in  the  world  generally 
keep  a  touch  of  boyishness  about  them.  Her 
heart  ached  for  him  as  she  stood  looking  down 
upon  the  bowed  head.  And  then  the  mother's 
glance  met  hers,  and  both  women  began  to 
weep  silently. 

"  I'm  a  foolish  old  body,"  said  poor  Mrs. 
Foster.  "  It's  a  mistake  to  go  knocking  at  the 
door  of  any  heart,  even  if  it's .  that  of  one's 
child.  I  had  better  have  held  my  tongue,  and 
left  all  to  God." 

"  It  is  better  as  it  is,"   Morgan    answered 


A   Confession  Overheard.          179 

raising  his  head,  and  speaking  more  quietly. 
"  I  am  less  miserable  than  I  was  before.  And 
Miss  Hazleburn  will  understand,"  he  added, 
with  a  little  pride,  "that  although  I  am  an 
unhappy  man,  I  don't  mean  to  be  a  traitor. 
I  do  not  wish  to  recall  anything  I  have  said. 
Every  word  was  true  ;  and  now  that  she  knows 
all,  she  will  pray  for  me." 

Eve  stood  before  him  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  I  am  going  now,"  she  said.  "  God  bless 
you,  Mr.  Foster.  You  shall  have  all  the  bless- 
ings  that  my  prayers  can  win  for  you  ;  and  the 
truest  respect  and  friendship  that  a  woman  can 
give.  Perhaps  we  shall  never  meet  again. 
If  we  do,  I  think  this  scene  will  seem  like  a 
dream  to  us  both." 

She  went  her  way  out  of  the  shabby  little 
house  into  the  narrow  street.  Had  "God 
nothing  better  to  give  her  than  this  ?  Had 
He  shown  her  the  beautiful  land  of  Might- 
have-been  only  to  send  her  back,  doubly 
desolate,  into  the  wilderness  ?  These  were  the 


180  Nelly  Channell. 

first  rebellious  questions  that  arose  in  Eve's 
heart,  and  it  was  some  time  before  they  were 
answered. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  she  went 
to  the  window  of  her  room,  and  looked  between 
the  slats  of  the  Venetian  blind.  It  was  chill 
and  grey  out-of-doors.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
fully  risen,  and  only  a  faint  pallor  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  eastern  sky.  Presently  a  fly 
stopped  at  the  door  of  that  shabby  little  house 
which  she  knew  so  well.  Then  the  flyman 
knocked ;  the  door  opened,  and  he  entered, 
soon  reappearing  with  a  portmanteau.  Another 
figure  followed,  tall  and  black-coated.  At  the 
sight  of  it  poor  Eve  uttered  a  low  cry,  and 
pressed  her  hands  tightly  together.  A  moment 
more,  and  the  fly  had  rattled  off  down  the 
street,  and  had  turned  the  corner  on  its  way  to 
the  railway  station. 

Was  that  to  be  the  end  of  it  all  ?  Shivering 
and  forlorn,  she  went  back  to  her  bed,  and  lay 
there  for  a  time,  mutely  praying  for  strength 
and  peace, 


A   Confession   Overheard.          181 

Afterwards,  she  knew  all  that  Morgan's 
mother  could  tell  her  about  his  engagement. 
And  she  knew,  too,  that  Nelly  Channell  was 
the  lady  to  whom  Mr.  Myrtle  had  left  the  three 
thousand  pounds.  It  seemed  to  her  just  then, 
poor  girl,  as  if  Nelly  were  taking  all  the  things 
that  ought  to  have  been  hers.  But  this  mood 
did  not  last  long,  and  she  was  sorry  that  such 
bitter  thoughts  should  have  found  their  way 
into  her  heart.  The  Golds  came  back  from  the 
seaside  early  in  March,  and  the  ordinary  way 
of  life  began  again. 

Morgan,  too,  had  gone  back  to  his  work, 
but  it  was  harder  for  him  than  for  Eve.  She 
had  no  part  to  sustain — no  love  to  simulate. 
And  she  had  the  consolation  of  his  mother's 
friendship,  and  the  sad  delight  of  reading  his 
letters.  In  those  letters  no  mention  was  ever 
made  of  her ;  but  they  told  of  a  life  of  daily 
struggles — a  life  whose  best  comfort  was  found 
in  labour.  Eve  and  Mrs.  Foster  wept  over 
them  together,  and  clung  to  each  other  with 
a  new  tenderness.  The  mother  had  faith,  and 


182  Nelly  ChannelL 

she  believed  that  her  son  would  be  set  free. 
She  ventured,  once  or  twice,  to  say  this  to  Eve, 
but  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  we  must  not  look  for  that. 
We  ought  rather  to  pray  that  the  ties  may 
grow  pleasant  instead  of  irksome." 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Foster,  thought- 
fully. "I  almost  think  it  is  best  to  pray  for 
the  freedom.  It  was  not  the  right  kind  of 
feeling,  Eve,  that  led  him  to  propose  to  Miss 
Channel!.  He  was  startled  into  it,  and  it  really 
seemed  at  first  as  if  that  were  the  way  that 
God  meant  him  to  go." 

"  He  should  have  stood  still,  and  just  have 
waited  for  guidance,"  Eve  remarked,  sadly. 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  admitted  the  mother. 
"  But  do  not  most  of  our  troubles  come  to  us 
because  we  will  not  wait  ?  We  all  find  it 
easier  to  run  than  to  stand  still." 

While  these  other  hearts  were  throbbing  with 
restless  pain,  Nelly  Channell  was  serenely 
happy.  She  complained  at  times  that  Morgan 
was  working  too  hard,  and  wearing  himself  out, 


A  Confession  Overheard,         183 

but  she  never  thought  of  attributing  his  wan 
looks  to  any  cause  save  that  of  over  exertion. 

But  Robert  Channell  had  a  keener  sight; 
and  he  began  to  ask  himself,  uneasily,  if  he 
had  been  right  in  letting  this  engagement 
come  to  pass  ?  In  his  heart  of  hearts  he  owned 
that  he  had  been  secretly  anxious  to  secure 
the  curate  for  his  daughter.  It  was  the  desire 
of  his  life  that  Nelly  should  marry  a  good  man, 
and  Morgan  Foster  was  the  best  man  that  had 
as  yet  come  in  her  way.  Perhaps  he,  too,  had 
been  running  when  he  ought  to  have  stood 
still.  He  began  to  think  that  this  was  the  case. 

But  how  could  he  undo  what  was  done  ? 
In  his  perplexity  he  talked  the  matter  over 
with  his  wife.  And  she  admitted  that  the 
curate  did  not  seem  to  be  quite  at  ease  in 
Nelly's  company.  There  was  a  shadow  upon 
him.  It  might  be  a  consciousness  of  failing 
health,  or 

"  Or  of  failing  love,"  said  Mr.  Channel^ 
finishing  her  sentence.  "  If  that  is  it,  Rhoda, 
it  is  a  miserable  affair  indeed !  We  ought  to 


184  Nelly  Channell. 

have  made  them  wait  before  we  sanctioned 
the  engagement  But  you  know  I  wanted 
to  keep  her  safe  from  those  selfish,  worldly 
men  who  have  been  seeking  her." 

"  We  are  always  afraid  to  trust  God  with 
anything  dear  to  us,"  answered  Mrs.  Channell, 
sadly.  "  But  if  Morgan  Foster  has  mistaken 
his  own  feelings,  Robert,  it  will  be  hard  to 
condemn  him,  and  equally  hard  to  forgive  him." 

Summer  came.  And  early  in  July  all  the 
gossips  in  Huntsdean  were  talking  of  the  rich 
family  who  had  taken  Laurel  House.  Mr. 
Gold,  they  said,  was  a  retired  merchant  from 
Warwickshire,  who  was  as  wealthy  as  a  nabob. 
His  household  consisted  of  a  wife  and  six 
children,  a  governess,  and  menservants  and 
maidservants.  And  when  Nelly  heard  that 
the  governess  was  a  Miss  Hazleburn,  the  name 
awoke  no  recollections.  She  had  quite  for- 
gotten the  little  poem  in  the  Monthly  Guest. 

The  Channells  called  on  the  new-comers,  and 
were  received  by  Miss  Hazleburn.  Illness  kept 
Mrs.  Gold  in  her  own  room  for  some  weeks 


A  Confession  Overheard.          185 

after  her  arrival  in  Huntsdean,  and  on  Eve 
devolved  the  unwelcome  task  of  seeing  visitors. 
The  one  whom  she  most  dreaded  and  most 
longed  to  see  did  not  come.  She  saw  him  in 
church,  and  that  was  all.  She  had  determined 
that  her  stay  in  Huntsdean  should  be  as  short 
as  possible.  Already  she  was  answering  ad- 
vertisements, and  doing  her  utmost  to  get  away 
from  the  place.  It  was  hard  upon  her,  she 
thought,  that  among  the  earliest  callers  should 
be  Nelly  Channell. 

Yet  when  she  saw  the  girl  she  felt  a  thrill 
of  secret  satisfaction.  This,  then,  was  the 
woman  before  whom  she  was  preferred ;  and 
Eve's  eyes  told  her  that  she  could  no  more 
be  compared  with  Nelly  than  a  daisy  can  be 
compared  with  a  rose !  But  the  poor  daisy, 
growing  in  life's  highway,  unsheltered  from  the 
storms  of  the  world,  was  loved  better  than  the 
beautiful  garden  flower.  She  was  human,  and 
she  could  not  help  rejoicing  in  her  unsuspected 
triumph. 

Nelly    took   a  girl's   sudden    and    unreason- 


1 86  Nelly  Channelt. 

able  liking  to  the  governess.  She  wanted  Miss 
Hazleburn  to  be  her  friend  ;  she  talked  of  her 
to  everybody,  including  Morgan  Foster. 

"  Have  you  seen  her,  Morgan  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  seen  her  in  church,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  you  haven't  called  on  the  Golds  yet," 
said  Nelly.  "  Why  don't  you  go  there  ?  " 

"The  rector  has  called,"  Morgan  replied, 
"  and  there  really  is  no  need  for  a  curate  to  be 
thrusting  himself  into  rich  folks'  houses  unless 
they  are  ill." 

"You  didn't  mind  coming  to  our  house," 
rejoined  Nelly,  "and  I  daresay  we  are  as  rich 
as  the  Golds.  But  you  can't  judge  of  Miss 
Hazleburn  by  seeing  her  in  church,  Morgan. 
It  is  in  conversation  that  you  find  out  how 
charming  she  is.  And  actually  there  is  some- 
thing in  her  that  reminds  me  of  you !  I  can't 
tell  where  the  resemblance  lies — it  may  be  in 
the  voice,  or  it  may  be  in  the  face,  but  I  am 
certain  that  it  exists." 

"  It  exists  only  in  your  imagination,"  said 
Morgan,  bent  upon  changing  the  subject. 


A  Confession  Overheard.          187 

Before  Mrs.  Gold  had  entirely  recovered, 
Nelly  had  got  into  a  habit  of  running  in  and 
out  of  the  house.  It  was  about  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  from  her  home,  and  stood  on  the 
summit  of  the  green  downs  which  she  had  loved 
in  her  childhood.  The  garden  slanted  down 
from  the  back  of  the  house  to  these  open  downs  : 
it  was  raised  above  the  slopes  and  terminated  in 
a  gravelled  terrace  ;  and  so  low  was  this  terrace 
that  Nelly  could  easily  climb  upon  it  and  go 
straying  into  the  shrubbery.  She  had  done 
this  dozens  of  times  while  Laurel  House  was 
empty,  for  the  old  garden,  with  its  thick  hedges 
of  laurel  and  yew,  had  always  been  a  favourite 
haunt  of  hers.  Finding  that  the  Golds  were 
free-and-easy  people,  who  gladly  welcomed  the 
pretty  trespasser,  she  chose  to  keep  up  her  old 
custom. 


XVI. 
HOW  THE  TRUTH  CAME  OUT. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HOW   THE  TRUTH   CAME   OUT. 

ONE  August  evening,  when  it  was  too  sultry  to 
stay  indoors,  Nelly  wandered  out  into  the  lanes 
alone.  She  had  told  Morgan  that  she  was 
going  to  drive  into  the  nearest  town  on  a 
shopping  expedition,  and  should  not  return  till 
dusk.  But  one  of  her  ponies  had  fallen  lame, 
and  she  had  given  up  the  plan. 

On  she  went,  saying  a  kind  word  or  two  to 
the  villagers  .as  she  passed  their  cottages. 
They  all  loved  Nelly  well.  Her  bright  face 
came  amongst  them  like  a  sunbeam ;  even  the 
smallest  children  had  a  smile  for  her  as  she 
went  by.  She  was  so  young  and  healthy  and 
beautiful  that  many  an  admiring  glance 
followed  -her  tall  figure.  She  belonged  to 
Huntsdean,  and  Huntsdean  was  proud  of 
her. 


192  Nelly  Channell. 

• 

She  made  straight  for  the  downs,  tripping 
up  the  green  slopes,  and  startling  the  browsing 
sheep.  She  gave  a  friendly  nod  to  the  little 
shepherd-boy  who  lay  idly  stretched  upon 
the  grass.  And  then,  as  she  had  done  often 
enough  before,  she  mounted  the  gravelled  ter- 
race, and  sat  down  on  a  rustic  bench  behind 
the  hedge  of  laurels. 

From  this  spot  she  could  not  see  Laurel 
House  at  all.  The  high  wall  of  evergreens 
completely  shut  in  the  view  of  the  residence 
and  its  garden.  The  gravelled  terrace  was 
divided  from  the  grounds  by  this  thick  hedge, 
and  was  only  approached  from  the  house  by  one 
long  straight  path  of  turf.  The  path  terminated 
in  an  arch,  formed  by  the  carefully-kept  shrubs, 
and  giving  access  to  the  platform ;  and  any 
one  walking  on  the  downs  must  go  up  to  the 
middle  of  the  terrace  and  look  through  this 
archway  before  he  could  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
house. 

Nelly  knew  that  Miss  Hazleburn  liked  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  turfy  path  when  the 


How  the  Truth  came  out.         193 

day's  duties  were  done.     She  meant  to  rest  her- 
self for  a  few  minutes  before  entering  the  garden. 

The  bench  was  at  the  very  end  of  the  plat- 
form. She  loved  the  seat  because  it  com- 
manded an  extensive  view  of  the  surrounding 
country.  Beyond  the  Huntsdean  downs  she 
could  see  other  hills  lying  far  away,  softly 
outlined  against  the  summer  evening  sky. 
And  nearer  lay  the  dearer  old  meadows  and 
homesteads  and  the  long  tracts  of  woodland, 
— all  familiar  and  beloved  scenes  to  the  girl 
who  had  been  born  and  bred  among  them. 
The  air  was  very  still ;  even  here  it  was  but  a 
faint  breath  of  wind  that  fanned  her  flushed 
cheeks ;  but  the  coolness  on  these  highlands 
was  delightful  after  the  closeness  of  the  vale. 
She  sat  and  enjoyed  it  in  silence. 

Quite  suddenly  the  sound  of  voices  broke 
the  stillness.  The  speakers  were  hidden  from 
Nelly's  gaze,  for  the  tones  came  from  the  other 
side  of  the  laurel  hedge.  Eve  Hazleburn's 
accents,  clear  and  musical,  could  be  recognised 
in  a  moment. 

O 


194  Nelly  Channell. 

"  I  am  going  away  next  week,"  she  said, 
"going  back  to  Warwickshire,  Mr.  Foster,  I 

wrote  to  Mr.  Lindley,  the  good  Vicar  of  C , 

and  he  has  found  a  place  for  me.  I  am  to 
be  companion  to  an  invalid  lady  whose  house 
is  close  to  the  street  where  your  father  and 
mother  live.  They  will  be  glad  to  have  me 
near  them  again." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  and  a  little  louder  than 
usual.  Nelly,  overwhelmed  with  astonishment, 
sat  still,  without  giving  a  thought  to  her  posi- 
tion as  an  eavesdropper. 

"  I  have  kept  away  from  you — I  have  tried 
not  to  think  of  you  !  "  cried  Morgan  Foster,  in 
irrepressible  anguish.  ''God  does  not  help  me 
in  this  matter.  I  have  prayed,  worked,  strug- 
gled, yet  I  get  no  relief.  What  shall  I  do, 
Eve— what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"You  must  endure  to  the  end,"  she  answered, 
with  a  little  sob.  "  God  will  make  it  easier  by- 
and-by.  Oh,  I  was  so  sorry  to  come  here,  Mr. 
Foster ;  but  I  could  not  help  it !  We  will 
never  meet  again,  you  and  I.  Yet  I  am  glad 


Eve  Hazlolurn  and  Morgan  Foster.  —  P;ige  19*. 


How  the  Truth  came  out.         195 

that  I  know  Miss  Channell.  I  will  go  and  tell 
the  old  people  what  a  sweet  bright  girl  she  is  ; 
and  they  will  soon  learn  to  love  her.  It  will 
all  come  right  in  the  end." 

"Ah,  if  I  could  believe  that!"  said  the 
curate.  "  But  I  can't.  It  is  madness  to  think 
that  a  wrong  path  can  have  a  right  ending. 
Sometimes  I  am  persuaded  it  would  be  best 
to  tell  her  everything." 

"  If  you  did,"  cried  Eve,  sternly,  "  you  would 
break  her  heart.  And  don't  think — pray  don't 
think,  Mr.  Foster,  that  I  would  build  my  house 
on  the  ruins  of  another  woman's  happiness ! 
When  I  am  gone,"  and  the  proud  voice 
trembled,  "you  will  learn  to  submit  to  cir- 
cumstances. We  are  not  likely  to  cross  each 
other's  paths  again ;  you  will  be  a  rich 
man " 

"Oh,  the  money  makes  it  all  the  harder  to 
bear  !  "  interrupted  Morgan,  bitterly.  "  That 
three  thousand  pounds  that  Mr.  Myrtle  pro- 
mised to  leave  to  you  has  been  left  to  her. 
Did  you  know  this  ? " 


1 96  Nelly  Channell. 

Nelly  did  not  wait  to  hear  Eve's  reply. 
Swiftly  and  noiselessly  she  sprang  from  the 
terrace  on  to  the  smooth  sod  beneath,  her 
muslin  dress  making  no  rustle  as  she  moved. 
Away  she  sped  down  the  green  slopes  ;  the 
sheep  parted  to  left  and  right  before  her 
flying  footsteps  ;  the  shepherd-lad  stared  after 
her  in  amazement.  She  did  not  take  the  road 
that  led  through  the  village.  In  her  misery 
and  bewilderment  she  remembered  that  she 
could  not  bear  the  friendly  good-nights  of  the 
cottagers.  She  struck  wildly  across  the  fields, 
regardless  of  the  wet  grass,  and  the  brambles 
that  tore  her  thin  skirts  as  she  dashed  through 
the  gaps  in  the  hedges,  until  she  came  to  the 
side  of  the  brook,  where  she  was  alone  in  her 
grief.  She  was  not  thinking  at  all ;  she  was  only 
feeling — feeling  passionately  and  bitterly — that 
she  had  been  cruelly  wronged  and  deceived. 

"  Oh  those  two  ! "  she  moaned  aloud,  as  her 
home  came  in  sight.  "  The  man  whom  I 
loved — the  girl  whom  I  would  have  made  my 
friend  !  " 


How  the  Truth  came  out.         197 

Robert  Channell  and  his  wife  were  sitting 
together  in  the  library.  He  had  been  reading 
aloud :  Shakespeare  still  lay  open  on  his  knee, 
and  Rhoda  occupied  a  low  chair  by  his  side. 
They  were  talking,  as  happy  married  people 
love  to  talk,  of  the  old  days  when  God  first 
brought  them  together. 

While  they  chatted  in  low  tones,  the  day 
was  fast  closing  in.  The  French  windows 
stood  open,  and  the  first  breath  of  the  night 
wind  stole  into  the  room.  A  dusky  golden 
haze  was  settling  down  over  the  garden ;  the 
air  was  heavy  with  flower-scents  and  the  faint 
odours  of  fallen  leaves.  Suddenly  a  great 
shower  of  petals  from  over-blown  roses  drifted 
through  the  casement,  and  Nelly  swept  in  after 
them. 

She  sank  down  on  her  knees,  shivering  in 
her  limp,  wet  dress,  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
stepmother's  lap.  And  then  the  story  was 
told  from  beginning  to  end. 

An  hour  later,  Rhoda  was  sitting  by 
Nelly's  pillow,  talking  to  her  in  the  sweet 


198  Nelly  ChannelL 

hush  of  the  August  twilight.  Already  the 
heat  of  anger  had  passed  away.  The  girl's 
thoughts  had  gone  back,  as  Rhoda  knew  they 
would,  to  that  winter  afternoon  when  Morgan 
had  asked  her  to  become  engaged  to  him. 

"Mamma,"  she  said,  piteously,  "he  has 
never  loved  me  at  all.  He  gave  me  all  he 
could  give ;  but  it  was  only  the  silver,  not 
the  gold.  It  is  very,  very  humiliating,  but  it 
is  the  truth,  and  it  must  be  faced.  To-night 
when  I  heard  him  speaking  to  Eve  Hazel- 
burn,  I  understood  the  difference  between 
love  and  liking.  He  liked  me,  and  perhaps 
he  saw — more  than  I  meant  him  to  see  !  O 
mamma,  I  was  very  young  and  foolish  ! " 

It  touched  Rhoda  to  hear  Nelly  speak  of 
her  old  self  in  the  past  tense.  Yet  it  was  a 
fact ;  the  youth  and  the  folly  had  had  their 
day.  Nelly  would  never  be  so  young  again, 
for  sorrow  takes  away  girlhood  when  it 
teaches  wisdom. 

"I  heard  Eve  say,"  she  went  on,  "that 
she  would  never  build  her  house  on  the  ruins 


How  the   Truth  came  out.         199 

of  another  woman's  happiness  ;  and  God 
forbid  that  I  should  build  mine  on  ground 
that  has  never  rightly  belonged  to  me  !  But 
I  wish  he  had  told  me  the  truth.  He  has 
done  me  a  greater  wrong  in  hiding  it,  than 
in  speaking  it  out" 

"Nelly,"  said  her  stepmother,  tenderly, 
"we  believe  that  Morgan  has  been  a  blun- 
derer, but  not  a  traitor.  We  have  blundered 
terribly  ourselves.  We  ought  not  to  have  let 
the  engagement  take  place  until  we  had 
tested  the  strength  of  his  attachment.  We 
wanted  to  guard  you  from  unworthy  suitors; 
and  in  taking  you  out  of  danger,  we  led  you 
into  sorrow." 

"I  was  very  foolish,"  repeated  Nelly,  with 
a  sigh. 

"Don't  forget,"  Rhoda  continued,  "that 
God  can  bless  those  whom  He  puts  asunder, 
as  well  as  those  whom  He  joins  together. 
It  is  better  to  dwell  apart  than  to  live  to- 
gether with  divided  souls.  He  saw  we  were 
too  weak  and  stupid  to  set  our  mistake  right, 


2OO  Nelly  ChannelL 

and  He  has  done  it  for  us.  While  we  were 
gazing  helplessly  at  the  knot,  He  cut  the 
thread." 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  evening  that  Nelly's 
love  affair  came  to  an  end.  She  was  in  her 
place  in  church  on  Sunday  morning,  and 
during  the  rest  of  the  day  she  kept  much  by 
her  father's  side.  They  had  talked  the 
matter  over  and  over,  and  had  arranged  all 
their  plans  before  the  night  closed  in.  And 
Nelly  thanked  God  that  the  anger  had  gone 
away  from  her  heart,  although  the  sorrow 
remained. 


XVII. 

AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  RELEASE. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  RELEASE. 

VERY  early  on  Monday,  the  Golds' 
governess  took  her  departure  from  Hunts- 
dean.  The  train  bore  her  away  through  the 
pleasant  southern  counties  while  the  dew  was 
still  shining  on  the  meadows.  On  and  on  it 
went ;  past  cottages,  standing  amid  fruit- 
laden  trees,  and  gardens  where  Michaelmas 
daisies  were  in  bloom;  past  yellow  fields, 
where  the  corn  was  falling  under  the  sickles 
of  the  reapers.  Hedges  were  gay  with 
Canterbury  bells  and  ragged  robins.  Here 
and  there  were  dashes  of  gold  on  the  deep 
green  of  the  woods.  Eve  Hazleburn,  quiet 
and  tearless,  looked  out  upon  the  smiling 
country,  and  bade  it  a  mute  farewell. 

Afterwards,     two       carriages      laden      with 

luggage  drove  out  of   the    village,  taking  the 
203 


204  Nelly  Channell. 

road  that  led  to  the  neighbouring  seaport 
town.  The  first  contained  the  two  little 
Channells  and  their  nurses ;  in  the  second 
sat  Rhoda  and  Nelly.  And  before  the 
vehicles  were  out  of  sight,  Robert  Channell 
had  turned  his  steps  in  the  direction  of  the 
curate's  lodging. 

He  met  the  young  man  in  the  lane  out- 
side the  sexton's  cottage,  and  gave  him  a 
kindly  good  morning. 

"  I  am  the  bearer  of  startling  news, 
Morgan,"  he  said,  slipping  a  little  note  into 
his  hand.  "  Let  us  come  under  the  shade 
of  the  churchyard  trees.  And  now,  Morgan, 
before  you  read  the  note,  I  want  to  ask  you 
to  forgive  my  Nelly." 

"  Forgive  Nelly ! "  stammered  the  curate, 
thinking  that  if  all  could  be  known  it  would 
be  Nelly's  part  to  forgive  him. 

"Yes,"  the  father  answered.  "Try  to 
think  of  her  as  a  dear,  foolish  child  who 
has  made  a  grave  mistake.  She  has  sent 
me  to  break  off  her  engagement  with  you, 


An   Unlooked-for  Release.         205 

Morgan.  She  begs  you,  through  me,  to  for- 
give her  for  any  pain  that  she  may  cause 
you.  She  wants  you  to  remember  her  kindly 
always,  but  neither  to  write  to  her,  nor  seek 
to  see  her  again." 

The  curate  was  silent  for  some  moments. 
No  suspicion  of  the  truth  crossed  his  mind. 
He  concluded,  not  unnaturally,  that  he  had 
been  too  quiet  and  grave  a  lover  for  the 
bright  girl.  That  was  all. 

When  he  spoke,  his  words  were  very 
few.  Perhaps  Nelly's  father  respected  him 
none  the  less  because  he  made  no  pretence 
of  great  sorrow.  His  face  was  pale,  and  his 
voice  trembled  a  little,  as  he  said  quietly, — 

"  If  you  will  come  into  my  lodging,  Mr. 
Channell,  I  will  give  you  Nelly's  letters  and 
her  portrait.  She  may  like  to  have  them 
back  again  without  delay." 

They  walked  out  of  the  churchyard,  and 
down  the  lane  to  the  sexton's  cottage.  And  then 
Morgan  left  Mr.  Channell  sitting  in  the  little 
parlour,  while  he  went  upstairs  to  his  room. 


206  Nelly  ChannelL 

The  hour  of  release  had  come.  He  took 
out  a  plain  gold  locket,  which  had  always 
been  worn  unseen,  and  detached  it  from  its 
guard.  He  opened  it,  and  looked  long  and 
sadly  at  the  fair  face  that  it  contained.  It 
was  a  delicately-painted  photograph,  true  to 
life ;  and  locket  and  portrait  had  been 
Nelly's  first  gift.  The  smile  was  her  own 
smile,  frank  and  bright  ;  the  brown  eyes 
seemed  to  look  straight  at  the  gazer.  "  O 
Nelly,"  he  said,  kissing  the  picture,  "why 
couldn't  I  love  you  better  ?  Thank  God  for 
this  painless  parting  !  No  wonder  that  you 
wearied  of  me,  dear  ;  you  will  be  a  thousand 
times  freer  and  happier  without  me." 

Presently  he  came  downstairs,  and  entered 
the  parlour  with  the  locket  and  a  little 
packet  of  letters.  These  he  gave  silently 
into  Mr.  Channell's  hands. 

"  Morgan,"  said  Robert  Channell,  "  I  am 
heartily  sorry  for  this.  Don't  think  that  I 
shall  cease  to  feel  for  you  as  a  friend,  because 
I  cannot  have  you  for  a  son-in-law." 


An   Unlooked-for  Release.         207 

"I  shall  never  forget  all  your  kindness," 
Morgan  answered,  in  a  low  voice.  "  But  I 
shall  soon  leave  this  place,  Mr.  Channell." 

"Better  so,  perhaps,"  Robert  responded. 
"You  ought  to  labour  in  a  larger  sphere.  You 
have  great  capacities  for  hard  work,  Morgan." 

Then  the  two  men  parted  with  a  close 
hand-shake.  And  Mr.  Channell  looked  back 
to  say,  almost  carelessly, — 

"  My  family  have  migrated  to  Southsea  for 
a  month  or  two.  I  follow  them  to-morrow." 

It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  the 
curate  "regained  his  freedom  with  a  sigh." 
Yet  certain  it  is  that  this  unlooked-for  release 
set  his  heart  aching ;  it  might  be  that  his 
amour  propre  was  slightly  wounded,  for  was 
it  not  a  little  hard  to  find  that  the  girl  for 
whom  he  had  been  making  a  martyr  of  him- 
self could  do  very  well  without  him  ?  He 
had  climbed  the  height  of  self-sacrifice  only 
to  find  deliverance.  The  spirit  of  sacrifice  had 
been  required  of  him,  but  the  crowning  act 
was  not  demanded. 


208  Nelly  Channell. 

He  read  Nelly's  note  again.  It  was  a  very 
commonplace  little  letter,  written  in  a  sloping, 
feminine  hand.  She  used  that  stereotyped 
phrase  which,  hackneyed  as  it  is,  does  as 
well  or  better  than  any  other,  "  I  feel  we  are 
not  suited  for  each  other."  This  was  the 
sole  excuse  offered  for  breaking  the  engage- 
ment, and  surely  it  was  excuse  enough. 

How  could  he  know  that  these  few  trite 
sentences  had  been  written  in  the  anguish  of 
a  woman's  first  great  sorrow  ?  We  don't 
recognise  the  majesty  of  woe  when  it  mas- 
querades in  every-day  garments.  It  needs  a 
Divine  sight  to  find  out  the  real  heroes  and 
heroines  of  life.  If  Morgan  had  been  ques- 
tioned about  Nelly,  the  term  "heroine"  would 
have  been  the  very  last  that  he  would  have 
applied  to  her.  And  yet  Nelly,  quite  un- 
consciously, had  acted  in  the  true  spirit  of 
heroism. 

By-and-by  the  sense  of  relief  began  to  make 
itself  felt,  and  Morgan's  heart  grew  wonderfully 
light  He  went  through  his  usual  routine  of 


An   Unlooked-for  Release.         209 

duties,  and  then  took  his  way  to  the  rectory. 
He  must  give  the  rector  timely  notice  of  his 
intention  to  resign  his  curacy. 

Meanwhile  Robert  Channell  had  proceeded 
to  Laurel  House.  Mrs.  Gold  received  him 
in  a  depressed  manner.  Her  governess,  she 
said,  had  left  her  ;  and  she  seemed  to  con- 
sider that  Miss  Hazleburn  had  used  her 
unkindly.  She  did  not  know  how  such  a 
useful  person  could  be  replaced.  Nobody 
would  ever  satisfy  her  so  well  as  Miss  Hazel- 
burn  had  done.  Yes,  she  could  give  the 
governess's  address  to  Mr.  Channell.  She 
had  chosen  to  go  to  Warwickshire,  to  live 
with  an  invalid  lady.  Mrs.  Gold  hoped  she 
would  find  the  post  unbearably  dull,  and 
return  to  her  former  situation. 

"  There  is  little  probability  of  that,"  thought 
Robert  Channell,  as  he  went  his  way  with  the 
address  in  his  pocket-book.  And  then  he 
thought  of  Nelly's  face  and  voice  when  she 
had  stated  her  intention  of  giving  up  Mr. 
Myrtle's  legacy  to  Eve. 

P 


2io  Nelly  Channell. 

"  I  won't  keep  anything  that  isn't  fairly 
mine,"  she  had  said;  "let  her  have  both  the 
lover  and  the  money." 

Eve  never  ceased  to  wonder  how  the 
Channells  had  found  out  that  Mr.  Myrtle 
had  owed  her  father  three  thousand  pounds. 

October  had  just  set  in  when  Eve  and 
Morgan  met  again.  It  was  Sunday  morning, 
and  she  was  on  her  way  to  that  beautiful 
old  church  which  is  the  chief  glory  of  the 

city  of  C .  The  bells  were  chiming;  the 

ancient  street  was  bright  with  autumn  light ; 
far  above  them  rose  the  tall  spire,  rising  high 
into  the  calm  skies. 

They  said  very  little  to  each  other  at  that 
moment.  A  great  deal  had  already  been 
said  on  paper,  and  they  could  afford  to  be 
quiet  just  then.  Together  they  entered  the 
church,  a  happy  pair  of  worshippers,  "  singing 
and  making  melody  in  their  hearts  to  the 
Lord."  "A  thousand  times  happier,"  Eve  re- 
marked afterwards,  "  than  we  could  ever  have 
dared  to  be  if  another  had  suffered  for  our  joy." 


XVIII. 

«  WHAT  GOD    HATH    JOINED    TOGETHER* 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WHAT   GOD   HATH   JOINED   TOGETHER. 

ABOUT  two  years  ago,  a  great  crowd  assem- 
bled in  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  London 
to  hear  a  popular  preacher.  He  had,  it  was 
said,  a  rare  power  of  touching  men's  hearts, 
and  of  lifting  their  thoughts  out  of  the  mire 
and  clay  of  this  working-day  world.  And 
often,  too,  his  wife's  name  was  coupled  with 
his  ;  for  she,  by  her  written  words,  was  doing 
angels'  work  among  the  people.  Fashionable 
society  knew  them  only  as  preacher  and 
writer;  but  some  of  the  unfashionable  were 
better  acquainted  with  them. 

In  the  crowd  were  two  persons  who 
managed  to  get  good  seats  in  the  middle 
aisle.  They  were  husband  and  wife ;  he  a 
brave  soldier,  she  a  beautiful  woman.  It 

would    not   have   been    easy  to   have    found   a 
213 


214  Nelly  Channel}, 

couple  better  matched,  or  better  satisfied 
with  each  other.  They  exchanged  a  quick 
glance  of  intelligence  when  the  preacher  as- 
cended the  pulpit  stairs,  and  then  composed 
themselves  to  listen. 

They  were  not  disappointed  in  him.  As 
they  listened,  they  understood  how  and  why 
he  won  such  a  ready  hearing ;  and  when  the 
sermon  was  over,  Nelly  turned  to  her  hus- 
band again  with  the  old  bright  look ;  and  he 
answered  her  with  a  slight  nod  of  satisfaction. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  she  perceive  a 
familiar  face  at  the  top  of  the  pew. 

As  Nelly  looked  once  more  on  Eve, 
there  was  revealed  to  her  a  strange  glimpse 
of  what  might  have  been  if  those  two  had 
been  kept  apart,  and  she  had  taken  Eve's 
place.  She  saw  herself  a  restless,  unsatisfied 
wife,  always  craving  for  a  vague  something 
that  was  withheld.  She  saw  Morgan  crippled, 
not  helped,  by  her  riches  ;  a  good  man  still, 
but  one  who  had,  somehow,  missed  his  foot- 
ing, and  failed  to  climb  so  high  as  had  been 


What  God  hath  Joined  Togetfier.  2 1 5 

expected  of  him.  And  she  comprehended, 
fully  and  thankfully,  the  great  love  and  pity 
of  that  Being  who  had  saved  them  from  their 
mistake. 

There  was  a  quiet  hand-clasp  in  the 
crowded  aisle  ;  and  then  these  two  women 
went  their  respective  ways.  And  a  voice 
seemed  to  be  ringing  in  Nelly's  ears,  as  she 
leaned  upon  her  husband's  arm. 

"I  am  thinking,"  she  said,  "of  something 
that  was  spoken  long  ago.  It  was  when  I 
was  in  great  trouble,  dear,  and  felt  as  if  I 
couldn't  be  comforted.  '  Don't  forget,'  my 
stepmother  said  to  me,  'that  God  can  bless 
those  whom  He  puts  asunder  as  well  as 
those  whom  He  joins  together.'  And  I  think 
I'm  realizing  the  truth  of  those  words  to- 
night" 


A     000120066     6 


